Sophie joined my mother in law for an out of town trip early this morning. She was so excited, she started composing a song as I walked her to her grandma's house:
Oh I'm so excited
I don't know what to say
But the birds are singing
Just for you today
"Bye mom!" She sang in closing. I laughed and kissed her goodbye. I then turned and walked back to our house, and felt my heart sink slowly. I opened the door and as I entered, our little house immediately felt different. It felt so quiet, so solemn, and so much bigger than what it really was. It felt strange not to hear her foot steps as she moved about her room, her spontaneous little songs, her inevitable, insistent cries of "Mamaaaaaaaaaaaa! I need you," to which I, oftentimes in the middle of some chore, would find myself thinking "What is it now?"
I oftentimes sigh and complain that she is quite a handful for a little girl, but the truth is, we feel lost whenever she's gone. It's as if all the sunshine, laughter, and noise - oh the blessed, blessed noise - are swept into a vortex of a little girl and all that is left is Breath. Silence. Stillness. Waiting. Longing for the beautiful, powerful, joyful tempest to come back and wreak all her wonderful havoc on us and our home.
It's just been a few hours and already we miss her terribly.
My mind flashes forward to future sleepovers at friend's houses, out of town trips with her college barkada, team building with work colleagues, moving out of the house into a place of her own, and (gulp) finally walking down the aisle and pledging her life to another. Will I feel as empty as I do now? Or even emptier?
When I kissed her goodbye a few hours ago, I knew that she would be coming home to me the following morning. How would I feel then, when I kissed her goodbye with the knowledge that she wouldn't?
How ironic it is that the life you have grown within you, fed with your own body, and spent your entire life loving, nourishing, defending, and protecting is the very life that you will have to let go of someday, in order for it to fully flourish, bloom, and come into its glorious own. Such is the beauty and poignance of motherhood. Bittersweet indeed.
But wait. I should hold my horses. She's just six, after all. I have several more years of her belonging just to me and Pipo. So I should stop all this moping and just enjoy the free time. Maybe I'll watch a movie with Pipo. Or get a massage. Or read Fifty Shades of Grey and see what all the fuss is about.
You miss her but the gramps lost her. Maybe not permanently since visits however infrequent could be in the offing as basketballs suspended in the air. Still the yearning cuts with rawness on idle days when her shadow darts everywhere you turn to remind you of the food she loved to eat, the joys she danced about, even the tantrums she let loose in exercise of childish bents.
ReplyDeleteThe important thing is that everybody has moved on to the next and better level. Including her and most especially she should find the room to grow and be happy. To be with her Dad and Mom together as a family seeking their place in the sun.
Love lost is the one that lingers. It’s the sandwich you pack for the long trip ahead.