My Journey Part 4 of 4 parts
Forty eight years later, I still remember how heavy my heart felt, to leave my ammoomma and everyone else, but how the parcel of blessings that I carried with me acted as an umbrella that raised me in the wind to waft me over the waters, a parachute that assured my smooth landing, on new ground.
On my last night at home I sobbed on my Mom’s shoulder. “I can’t leave all of you.” She replied with dry eyes and a firm voice, “karayathe ponnu-molé, don’t cry my golden daughter, you will see your dear husband Balu soon. Your place is with him. We will be all right.”
All blessings come with strings attached. When loved ones bless you, your father, mother, ammoomma, maami, they also transfer their power and their past on to you. In accepting their blessings, you feel it essential to carry on the legacy and the work bestowed upon you by the broad, but often tired, shoulders that carried the burdens before you.
But, despite the blessings and despite the empowerment, I felt totally lost and totally alone in a new country. As much as you are happy to see your husband after such a long time, you miss the many that surrounded you every day, and the loneliness seemed almost insurmountable, at the time.
The purpose of the journey will always color the experiences of the traveler. Being that my one and only aim was to join my love at the other side of the world, love colored all my experiences as the traveler.
What I did not know then was that a journey is not a trip. A trip starts from the point of departure and ends at the point of arrival. In my journey, the point of departure was not a clean break, because the sum of all that had happened in my life up to then came along for the ride. It was with me when I reached my ‘destination.’
My journey had just begun.
part 4 of 4