When my sister and I were finally all settled in after a week of unpacking at SGU in the Caribbean, the time had come to say goodbye to my parents at the bus stop. I was preparing myself for what was about to ensue. My mom had not shown even the slightest sign of emotional anxiety in the last few months before our long medical school venture thousands of miles away from home, because she did not want to show us  weakness. She encouraged us by insisting on Waheguru’s powerful kirpa, and reassured me as she joked that after I made friends at SGU I would forget all about home. However, throughout this I failed to see the sadness of losing a son to time and studies in her eyes. There was a pain deeply embedded in her voice and eyes, which was subtle then, but very apparent to me now. She had to accept that her youngest boy was now becoming a man off to study and become what he had always wanted to become, a doctor. Time had not spared my youth.

I tightly hugged her with the Caribbean moon feebly lighting her thinning hair, and soon the silence turned into the harsh hurt and pain of separation from somebody I loved so much. I fought the lump in my throat with thoughts of me coming back home after midterms. I had prepared myself. I am sure my mother had too, but then she couldn’t hold it inside anymore. She began crying in my arms as I held her while she struggled to take a breathe. How could I comfort my mom who had raised me since my birth with insurmountable love? A mother who tossed and turned in bed if I stayed out too long or was away from home. She had every right to hold on to her little boy who unfairly grew up too soon. I could not solace her for the lump in my own throat now hindered my ability to speak. I looked over at my always calm and settled father for help, but was soon surprised to see a tear slipping down his face in the moonlit night as he quickly turned away. My father was no stone, but he was always ready to accept the inevitable with a face of reassurance, a symbol of strength and composure. However, that night he too was broken. It hit him hard seeing life fly by so quickly as he stood now an older man with graceful white hair not knowing where all the time had gone. He had listened to my crazy proposals of how much I would do for the world when I became a doctor soon before I had even received a junior high diploma in my hand. He always listened with a smirk, knowing the reality of life had not yet hit me. He stood there when I messed up in life with a stolid face of disappointment which was enough to make me shudder, but that night of our separation he was weaker. He lost that strength and composure as I hugged him. I reassured both my parents that I would see them soon and that time would fly by real fast, but inside I knew otherwise.

It has been a month since they left, and now I live a new life. My sister and I get into petty fights daily, and a night ago I decided that I had had enough of all the conflict. I told my sister in a heated conflict that I did not want to see her anymore for the remainder of the semester, and I left the room with my dinner in hand. I walked outside my dorm by the ocean to cool my thoughts and settle my anger. Soon enough my sister came jolting out of the dorm looking for me, and when she spotted me near the ocean she yelled out from the stairs, “Hey I’m real sorry, come back okay.” I did not want to accept it, and walked off into the darkness of the night with my frustration guiding the way. After sometime when I thought she had finally gone back to her own dorm, I retreated back to my dorm building. As I walked up the stairs, she startled me by jumping out of nowhere. She tried hugging me while apologizing but I just pushed her aside. She looked up at me helplessly as she was thrust backward with utter fear on her face as my anger surfaced an ugly face of its own. Inside I was still angry, but now I just felt guilty; however, my ego would not let this guilt stop my egocentric perception of events. I stormed back into my room as my sister furiously left for her own dorm room. We went our separate ways. Then at about three in the morning I sent her an email addressing all my grievances and how I felt about the whole situation, and stated why my anger was somewhat warranted. Although I love you so much, I told her, I need my space. She wrote back apologizing and understanding where I was coming from, and reassured her love for me too. We had a truce. Then I wrote her back and told her that I didn’t need “my space” anymore, only my ego did, and I could do without my ego. The next day she said that she had cried after reading my email as it made her feel ashamed that I had felt so negatively about her. Our bond grew a lot stronger that day after talking and listening to each other.

I told my mom the whole story when she asked how everything was generally going. I recounted the whole story of our feud and how selfish I can self-admittedly be at times. After reciting every detail, I could not hear anyone on the other line. I thought the phone had lost connection. “Mom are you still there.” No answer. I was about to hang up when I finally heard my mom respond after a while with a voice faint with emotion. She could not speak because she was overcome by emotion, because she was proud of how her little kids were growing up so quickly into mature young adults. We fought like every other close sibling in the world, but we could come together and respect and love on another so much more after it all. I understood my mom that night as she sat their with tears of happiness running down her face for she had raised two kids that were certainly human, but more importantly compassionate and loving people.

Emotions are an intangible stirring of feelings within each and everyone that occasionally take physical form to ensure that everything is not always kept to ourselves. Others need to see and feel others every once and awhile to remember that emotions are not individual but rather universal. We feel as humans because true life is the weakest numbing agent in the world.