Farewell, mum

I didn't hear from her again before her flight, but from the picture brother posted on facebook, I knew she had checked in and was about to board. Now, she must be wandering around the terminal building at Schiphol.

When I spoke to her earlier today, she said she was glad to go home. Some tensions developed during her stay in Europe, and she says she is glad to leave. I don't know whether it is on a bad note, but she did mention that she was disappointed somewhat by the way she was treated (or felt she was treated...)

I do not know why seeing this picture suddenly triggered tears in my eyes, why there is again this overwhelming sadness in me, even as I am sitting here at the office, that makes me feel so weak...

It reminds me of that feeling when I was sitting on the park bench as mum's plane took off and flew further and further away... Where, again I ask, are these tears coming from...?

Looking at her slim, frail figure, she looks so vulnerable, so alone. She will be going home to her own home. An empty nest, as she once called it.

And she will be going home to medical check ups, to appointments, and to the reality of her state of health after these two months. She will have to go through all this alone from now, for there is little I can do, little comfort I can offer except words on the other end of the line.

She told me earlier she read the card I had written her and clandestinely placed in her suitcase just before she left Canada. She said it touched her reading it again. In it, I hoped she can be happy. In it, I wished that she can find her own life, stand up on her own and find new purpose and meaning in life after all these travels.

I truly, truly hope so.

Bon voyage, mum...