Friday, July 07, 2006

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go..

... but I'm not.. not quite ready to let go, that is...

Ma called today. It seems S. isn’t well.

S. is my dog, more like my baby. Tho, he definitely Ma’s shadow more than he ever was mine. Now 14 years old, he roams around the house, not seeing as well as he used to. Sometimes, one has to call him LOUDLY, as he doesn’t hear that well either.

But whenever I hear that he isn’t well, it always leaves that cold feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I know that we all have no control over life and death, but if I could hold him tight and shield him from all the pain and hurt and “going”, I would. Maybe THIS is the level of emotion that we read about in Indian mythologies. Pick any random one, and the wife is following her usually errant husband into depths of hell or wherever. Could never understand it...

A friends sms-ed, to ask me how my mood is, before chatting any further (he knows me well). Said I was ok.

What would I say? Would telling random people that I suddenly feel “needy” and depressed make me feel better? Would the scared feeling, almost like a tangible lump in my throat making it difficult to breathe, be smaller? Could he do anything about it? Would he even WANT to?

So, I write it away, knowing these letters won’t be left feeing jittery and nervous and uncomfortable at my displays of intense emotion. And for once, I pray a lot…