Where are your Children?

“I was like, where is my Preet?” he said, as I prepared his items for departure. MY Preet, his Preet, anyone’s Preet; to have someone own me.. How comfortable was I with this concept? Having gained a sense of belonging, of belonging to something/someone, I giggled under my breath. “I am not here every day (and I do not play to stay here forever)” I declared, not mentioning the latter. Would it be hurtful to have reminded him of my temporary presence? Perhaps, yes. Unlike “back in the day” when I reminded everyone I am nothing permanent, I had begun to at least give the illusion of permanency. It felt assuring to know we built a connection together and regardless of physical presence, my impact will hopefully remain throughout life; I was redirecting myself to optimism. The concept of permanency- even though I say I do not believe in this, I tend to take so many things for granted. When the mother asked me if she still categorizes as a mother after her only child died, I reinforced the idea of: nothing is permanent. We are all mortal and will pass away with time; it is a blessing to choose your method or a gift for some to leave without notice.

“When a husband passes away, you are a widow. When parents pass away, you are an orphan. When your child passes away, what are you?”

I wonder if the other gentleman had similar thoughts at all; was he struggling with an identity crisis after having watched his own daughter be raped and murdered due to his negative antics? I wonder what it would feel like to watch her go because you affiliated with the wrong company? Had you stopped when your wife begged you to, you would have had all sorts of love. Today, here you are, desperately searching for a gut laugh- the real kind. I pondered about your life as a father; despite influencing your son towards self-harm, you were sipping piping hot coffee from that Starbucks mug. I mean, at some point you must have forgiven yourself… Or not, since you declare to live life by the hour, barely passing time. Making it past one hour without guilt killing your soul is today’s accomplishment for you. I still wondered how you would continue sipping away when your son would be in the hospital bed beside you, due to your influence and upbringing.

Admittedly, in one way I was very wrong. Every offspring chose their individualized path as we all do upon entry to this world. I was writing this text from your perspectives of embarrassment, shame, and struggle- I was reflecting upon your reflections.