So be it. I am writing again. This time to unwind the emotions that my heart is currently experiencing.
Some times we make beautiful relationships with people we least expect. These relationships help us grow, they teach us new values, reaffirm some existing values and offer us a hand of help when we need them the most. These relationships cannot be fostered, or doctored. They form over time on the basis of mutual respect and admiration. They bloom during times of crisis because thats when the bonds become stronger and more resilient. These relationships are subtle, like unsaid words. They are reassuring. They are the reason you go to work every morning.
But these relationships are also timed. They end. You keep holding on to them for a little while, but slowly the context dies, distance increases and people with whom you built these relationships are no longer meaningful in your life. Occasionally their voices will visit the corridors of your mind and knock on the doors of your conscience. Finally some day those voices will also fade away, and all you will be left with is a memory of a certain warmth that you felt in their company.
You add these people to your list of five (hundred in my case) people you wish to meet in heaven and you move on.
Some relationships are too pure and too giving to taint them with a definition. But I think I have what I like to call as the “daughter-like syndrome”. So basically anyone who invests his/her energy in making me a better human gets my daughter-like love and respect.
In a few weeks I will lose my only father-like figure at work. And of course the thought of it is exhausting me. A world without him is not something I am prepared for.
I don’t know what hurt me more. The fact that he is leaving or the fact that he wanted to take off during the last few days of his tenure to spend time with his son who is coming home for Spring break.
As I heard him say the words and watched him share his joy, I thought to myself,”and what about this daughter you are leaving behind?” He saw through me, and in a quivered voice and moist eyes said, “but of course we will have lunch before that.”
My real father will be jealous reading this. But he will be happy to know I am a resourceful daughter. I find my ways to move on. Everyone does.