Storge, they call it

“It is always sad when someone leaves home unless they are simply going around the corner and will return in a few minutes with ice-cream sandwiches.”― Lemony Snicket, Horseradishnbsp;The incident I’m recounting here today took place about four years ago but it took me as long as it did to write anything about it. Not because it meant any less to me then than it does now but rather because time puts everything in perspective, like a jigsaw falling into place.nbsp;On that day, I woke up with a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. It felt like I had lost something important and couldnt remember what it was. It bugged me but I could not attribute the feeling to anything concrete so I went about my day. However, the feeling stuck. After much deliberation, I finally admitted to myself it probably had something to do with my eldest leaving the day after for a church camp.Look, I think of myself as a fairly cool dad. Of course, Im equally strict when I need to be but the boys and I do a lot of fun stuff together and Im far from a helicopter parent. So imagine my surprise at being so thoroughly shaken by the idea of a mere camp.All of us trudged through the next day in uncomfortable and worrisome silence. At night my youngest came up to me saying he missed chacha (brother) terribly. When I called my Amma (mother) the next morning at 9.30, as Ive religiously done for the past 20 years, I had a couple of things on my mind. When I told her how the house felt empty without him, She just chuckled knowingly and told me thats how she has felt every day since the day I left home. She waited for my call every day and had even asked relatives to avoid calling around that time because she didnt want to risk missing my call. These words knocked the wind out of me.As I said, I check in on her every day but I never knew how important it was for her and how much she missed me. That is, until now. I had never paid it any heed when I left home or even for all the years that came in between. Im sure many of you would relate well to this feeling. But now I was in the same boat my parents were in all those years ago and life had come a full circle.I think stepping into ones parents shoes is almost next to impossible. As is natural, your childrens lives only revolve around yours for a few years before they learn to flap their wings and fly. The world is their oyster and they must go into it seeking all of its happiness and adventures. In fact, from day one, parents raise and gear us up for the world outside.But what remains when children finally leave home and step into the world? An empty nest. Two people who have far too much time on their hands with no idea what to do with it.Of course, children moving out is a normal part of the circle of life but I only understood what it feels for the parents who are left behind only after finding myself in that position. I found a name for this feeling that is so seldom talked about - the empty nest syndrome. It is not a clinical condition but one that is attached with intense grief and a feeling of loss when children leave home for the first time to live on their own. Its not surprising that we start to question our relevance in our childrens lives once they become independent. After all, a large chunk of our lives is structured around our children. Their departure from the home brings our own lives into sharp focus demanding us to find purpose and build it afresh. As I think about this, my mothers words wash over me once again.I think about my Appa (Dad) a lot these days. I am sure it happens to everyone whos lost their parents or close ones. Its funny how our perception of our parents changes when we look at our lives in retrospect. My appa was a man of very few words and I didnt call him very often. I miss him a lot and the other day I recalled a very common and recurring incident from my childhood. I used to be a real spoiled brat in those days, racing bikes at high speeds, you know, the works. So people often came to complain about me to my father. And he always had one thing to say - My Son, Oh Idiot!. I always felt sad hearing that. This topic came up one day many years later while talking to my uncle and he said, but didnt you hear the second part of the sentence? It was, Your Son, Oh double Idiot!. He laughed and something lifted my heart.I realized we only see our parents through a glass, darkly. Never fully perceiving the full reality. I regret not talking to him enough. I regret not comprehending the importance of my calls to my parents. Most of all, I regret taking their love for granted. And now I wonder how we will fare if and when both our sons leave home to find their own paths in life. Growing up, leaving home, outgrowing old habits, finding a new family is a rite of passage that will always inevitably be tinged with heartbreak. And thats how the song goes, cause its a bittersweet symphony, thats life.

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