and when i am about to break down in front of her, tell her  i miss my father...cannot get over his death... pine for his presence.. sometimes... wake up with that churning in the stomach - ..   i bite my tongue.. she is  grieving the loss of her husband

and when i am about to tell her, i am fearful of this new change in my life.. the children ..the youngest now.... going away from home.. my unhappiness.. how i wish it didn't have to be this way... i bite my tongue...she has been there too.

and when i pick up the phone, to unburden with another friend.. tell him  that i am  missing the son's presence at home and soon will miss the daughter's, i bite my tongue.. he misses his son.. his only child.. and his is an irreparable loss..


not one person without a sorrow of his own... or a sorrow smaller than mine.
 and  that doesn't bring me cheer

and yet i feel .. i should set them free

with no burden of responisbilities... responsibilities towards us

should i

shouldnt i

trust that they wouldn't shirk


it is just the loneliness.. fear of loneliness

fill yr time with a purpose.. my purpose ... time makes me change my purpose..

anitta

detachment


nothing is a coincidence they say.. the ubdersatanding of detachment,,,impermanence.. was it to strengthen me


i envy th

this mode of self pity.. valid yet wrong. 

its saddening.. coz i see clearly the acts closing...

the marriage.. end of act one - that of being the child
  and beginning of act two.. the family person.
and now, as the children leave.. my role as parent, curtains closing on that... end of act two.

even now.. they ae independent.. do not need me as much.. not much conversation.. but we share a nest.  atleast one of them

in tha tway th eparents were extremely fortunate.. mine atleast..

now what... act 3.. where i wait for them.. to return to the roost.. snuggle.. peck return for thier dose of pampering.. and energise me aloowing me tp be in charge ..for a few days

and then jus leave

self pity... yes... and i hum... ya chimanyano parat fira re ghara kade apulya

way before it is Tinhi saanzaaa... way before my twilight hours

i remember that sight.  i can never forget it.

she at the gate.. me my family in the car.  returning back to our home.  and she standing at that gate.

i am guilty of belittling that sorrow of hers.. her pain.  never in word.. definitely in thought


i remember her words.. let your wish be fulfilled.  remember you have a son.

i have a son  and a daughter

and now.. the loneliness.. a fate like hers?

standing at the gate... bidding them good bye..

Cleaning, clearing...de cluttering..packing ..

I see hoards..of books, clothes, artefacts, music...

I hold on to these tangible objects, unable to discard..let go..

They are part of my memories. This stack of story books from my childhood.....

they define me from when I was a child.... my identity as a child.



I hold on to my letters. card, diaries.....I hold on to them..the moments....

they define me - a woman in love.



I hold on to my children's stuff, my memories.. theirs too... I hold on to them...

they define me - a mother


The clutter... they arouse an emotion.. feelings.


And I  sit back in my chair..flitting in and out of the phases of my life.

every persons actions are goverened by his experiences.   sitting in a different seat, it is unfair to declare him right or wrong

a realisation which was always there  but acting upon it wuth a consistency.. only mych later in the day.
trying to let go of grudges and the feeling of victimisation if i can call it that

i am letting loose 2, very responsible adults on to the world
and there lies my fulfillment.