Wings of Time (A Haibun) - A mother's reflection of purpose, change, transformation and managing empty nest syndrome!

As I sit to eat, she used to give that shrill cry...making me jerk and just be with her. She never wanted me to leave her sight, walking behind me like a puppy to the bathroom as I shower. She used to hold tight to my legs as I got ready to work and cry out of her lungs, when I pack my travel bags to onsite. From being a young mom in early twenties, to now being a sick woman in mid-forties, my journey of life revolved around her. My thoughts, dreams and aspirations were built around her progress and existence. Slowly, the world changed. Her life too. She no longer wants my presence. My words echoed like a noise. My advices chocked her to core. My very being becoming a burden to her free fly. The mother bird has to let her young one go. That is only nature. She has to now look after her purpose, her aspirations around her own life...no longer intertwined with mine. The vacuum of empty nest syndrome is real. It can be redefining the way you lived. It has to repurpose your life. Is this not the time to actually be Selfish, like she now tells you are one! Selfish being focusing on your health, wealth and happiness. No strings attached. But the threads of life are finely interlinked that you have to be careful...not to burn bridges or bend to break beyond .... this is not a mother's cry. This is the nature's way of life. As weave into the tapestry of life. After all, life is a vicious circle! In fact, a nice roller-coaster circle of ride. Tighten your seat belts and enjoy the ride!

The Empty Nest

She once clung tight a little hand in mine,

A shadow trailing with her laughter divine.

Her cries would echo as I walked away,

Begging me, pleading, "Mom, please stay!"

Through sleepless nights and endless days,

Her world was mine in countless ways.

Dreams I wove with love so deep,

A bond unbroken and a promise to keep.

But time, the thief, so silent and sly,

Stole those moments as years flew by.

Her wings grew strong and her voice so bold,

She sought the world let go her hold.

My words, once wisdom, now just noise,

My presence faded in her joys.

No longer needed, left behind,

A silent ache, a restless mind.

Yet nature whispers, soft but true,

A mother’s love must bid adieu.

Not chains, but wind beneath her flight,

Let her soar to chase the light.

Now is my time to stand, to be,

To find the self I used to see.

Not lost, not broken, just reborn,

A life my own, no more forlorn.

The nest is empty, but skies are wide,

A journey waits, with time as guide.

So tighten your belt, embrace the tide,

Life’s a circle, a wondrous ride!

 

Wings of Time (A Haibun)

She followed me everywhere—her tiny feet pattering behind mine, her arms wrapped around my legs, her cries piercing through my heart whenever I left. Her world revolved around me, and mine around her. From the morning rush to bedtime stories, from school lunches to teenage dreams—I was always there, always needed. But time is a river, never pausing, always flowing.

Then, one day, she no longer turned back to look for me. My words, once her comfort, became a burden. My presence, once her anchor, became a chain. I watched as she broke free, soaring into a sky I once painted for her. My hands, which held her steady, now trembled with emptiness. The nest is silent, yet my heart still echoes with her laughter.

Letting go is love, too. So, I turn inward, embracing the solitude, the new beginning. The wind whispers—this is not an end, just another flight.

fallen autumn leaves—

branches stretch to touch the sky

without looking back

 

Dedicated to All Mothers

who sacrifice, who bravely fight, who give everything they can!

To their children

& 

Dedicated to all Children

who dare to dream and fly high with wind beneath their wings!

and also stay connected, rooted in love and grace 

The Facts and Feelings behind Silent Good byes!

 There’s a unique kind of pain in a goodbye that’s never spoken. It’s not the parting itself that lingers but the silence that follows—the questions left unanswered, the moments unresolved. These farewells, steeped in ambiguity, leave us suspended in a haze of emotions, caught between what was and what could have been. The absence of explanation becomes its own ache, an invisible weight that follows us. Yet within this discomfort lies an invitation—not just to grieve but to grow.

Life rarely gives us the closure we crave. The human heart longs for certainty, for neat conclusions that allow us to move forward without hesitation. We seek reasons, hoping that clarity will somehow ease the pain. But when someone leaves without explanation, the narrative is left open-ended, and the mind races to fill the void. We replay conversations, reexamine memories, and question ourselves endlessly. Was it something we said or didn’t say? Was it avoidable? Could things have been different?

Yet the truth is, life isn’t always meant to be understood in the moment. Not every story comes with a tidy resolution. Some chapters end abruptly, forcing us to grapple with ambiguity. And while this can feel like a betrayal of our need for understanding, it also holds a profound lesson: the opportunity to cultivate peace within ourselves, even when the world around us feels unresolved.

Every goodbye—spoken or unspoken—has something to teach us. The ones without explanation, though the most painful, are also the most transformative. They force us to confront the limits of our control. They teach us patience, resilience, and the difficult art of letting go. In their silence, they challenge us to create our own closure, to find healing not in the answers we seek but in the strength we discover within.

Thinkers and philosophers have long explored this idea of finding meaning in the face of uncertainty. The Stoics, for example, remind us that while we cannot control the actions of others, we can control our response to them. Marcus Aurelius, in his meditations, speaks of anchoring oneself in the present, finding tranquility within rather than searching for it in the external world. Seneca, too, reflects on the danger of expectations, reminding us that much of our suffering stems not from what happens to us but from how tightly we hold on to the way we believe life should be.

Unanswered goodbyes force us into this space of introspection. They strip away our illusions of control and remind us that closure is not something we can demand from others. True closure comes from within. It’s not about understanding why someone left or what might have gone wrong—it’s about learning to release the need for those answers. It’s about finding peace in the present, despite the shadows of the past.

This process isn’t easy. It requires us to sit with discomfort, to confront our pain without the solace of resolution. It demands that we practice forgiveness—not necessarily for the one who left, but for ourselves. Forgiveness for the moments we doubted our worth, for the times we replayed what we could not change. It asks us to extend compassion inward, to remind ourselves that our value is not determined by someone else’s choice to stay or go.

Over time, we come to understand that some stories are meant to remain unfinished. Their lessons unfold gradually, teaching us about our capacity for strength and grace. The silence of an unspoken goodbye, painful as it is, becomes a canvas for growth. It challenges us to redefine our idea of closure—not as an external resolution but as an internal state of acceptance.

We learn to trust ourselves again. To believe in our ability to navigate the uncertainties of life. Relationships, while beautiful and enriching, are not the sole source of our identity or strength. An unanswered goodbye pushes us to look inward, to discover that we are enough as we are, whole even without the explanations we once thought we needed.

The pain of an unresolved farewell doesn’t vanish overnight. It ebbs and flows, teaching us patience along the way. But with time, we find that its edges soften. The unanswered questions lose their urgency, and the silence becomes less a wound and more a space—a space where we can choose to create meaning, to cultivate resilience, and to honor our own journey.

So what do we take from these silent endings? Perhaps the most important lesson is this: we are not defined by what we’ve lost but by how we rise after losing it. The strength to move forward without answers, the courage to heal without resolution—these are quiet victories, testaments to the depth of our resilience.

Ask yourself: What does it mean to let go of the need for closure? What would it look like to trust in your ability to find peace, even in the midst of uncertainty? The answers to these questions are not easy, but they are profoundly freeing. They remind us that we are the authors of our own healing, the creators of our own meaning.

Yes, some goodbyes can be painful beyond words. But they are also transformative. They challenge us to let go, to grow, and to find strength in the silence. And in doing so, they reveal the quiet beauty of our own resilience—a beauty that no unanswered question or unresolved farewell can ever take away.