She is gone. The house seems oddly empty, as if only a guest has left after a brief stay, to return to their own home. It is cleaning day and just as well. It will keep me occupied for these first few awkward, silent hours. I don’t feel abandoned, I feel like an actual part of me has gone away. The question is, can I still be me? How? When she was born I heard someone use a metaphor that having children is like pulling your heart out of your body and letting it grow arms and legs and walk away. Yes, I think so.
Intellectually, of course I know I am still me. But at the deepest part of me I dread the transition. I’m so thankful I have been through this before because I know I can do it. Otherwise I might doubt it the possibility of being really happy again.
It doesn’t escape me that I left my own home and parents to move halfway around the world, and the pain that has caused them. We ‘seekers’ don’t want to hurt those we leave, we just need to find our own place in the world.
Her smell still lingers, the scent she uses after a shower in the mornings… and so I procrastinate the cleaning duties that I know will cleanse the air of her, still more. I’m so glad I have ‘plans’ for lunch and plans for a few things over the next days. Life goes on. But it will be a different life.