Flying home
The drive to Indira Ghandi International Airport was such as I could never picture it. I remember this thought on the back of my mind when Anya and Linda have left. I was convinced: I’d be so miserable when I take a plane home. If only I knew at that time how the misery feels like.
I recall different people taking plane home – all under different circumstances and with different feelings. I remember French Helene who caught hepatitis all of a sudden and was immediately sent home for the treatment and soonest recovery. I was wondering how it feels to leave one day without any chance to do more just because the circumstances say so. I remember Roel who got a chance to visit his family in Holland in the middle of his traineeship – his boss was taking him to the business trip in Europe. I envied this one so much for this free-of-charge opportunity to spend some time with his family and friends there, to see his country and its people - to breath in its air, to taste its food.
Strangely enough as it seems now, it was him, Roel, who the weekend before requested me to join him for souvenir shopping and this is how I myself actually got some gifts to bring home, otherwise I’ve been postponing getting those on the plea that my flight home is so far away.
The other day I was actually planning what to ship home on the first occasion and the latter turned to be the prospective visit of my sister in August. I actually organized my stuff in the closet accordingly.
…………………
That Thursday I was giving the final touch to the research proposal we were to submit on Monday when I got a call from mom. I did not pick it up as I did not want interruption at that point… Yet, she gave me one more call, one more and another one. I shivered, as I started realizing why she was calling. The realization made me want to postpone the talk as long as I could… I texted her requesting to get in touch later. With her reply the conversation became inevitable. She messaged back, “Ded umer” (Granddad has died)…Immediately taken over by the chaotic dance of thoughts and feelings I began to shake in voiceless sobbing, the one that makes you feel at the ultimate edge when you want to burst into particles as there is no way to stand the pain becoming physical any longer. Me not yet believing, being horrified to see my grieving relatives, yet definitely urged to be with them determined dynamics of the day. Finishing the proposal, arranging for the ticket, having numerous phone talks with friends and direct line with my sister, last minute gift shopping, packing, painful getting taxi, ultimate despair that at such a moment I am again on my own to handle the hurdles and the pain of the moment …. and eventually me sitting on the board of Aeroflot plane at 4.30 am, still not quite believing I’ll touch the ground of the motherland in some odd 7 hours.
I recall different people taking plane home – all under different circumstances and with different feelings. I remember French Helene who caught hepatitis all of a sudden and was immediately sent home for the treatment and soonest recovery. I was wondering how it feels to leave one day without any chance to do more just because the circumstances say so. I remember Roel who got a chance to visit his family in Holland in the middle of his traineeship – his boss was taking him to the business trip in Europe. I envied this one so much for this free-of-charge opportunity to spend some time with his family and friends there, to see his country and its people - to breath in its air, to taste its food.
Strangely enough as it seems now, it was him, Roel, who the weekend before requested me to join him for souvenir shopping and this is how I myself actually got some gifts to bring home, otherwise I’ve been postponing getting those on the plea that my flight home is so far away.
The other day I was actually planning what to ship home on the first occasion and the latter turned to be the prospective visit of my sister in August. I actually organized my stuff in the closet accordingly.
…………………
That Thursday I was giving the final touch to the research proposal we were to submit on Monday when I got a call from mom. I did not pick it up as I did not want interruption at that point… Yet, she gave me one more call, one more and another one. I shivered, as I started realizing why she was calling. The realization made me want to postpone the talk as long as I could… I texted her requesting to get in touch later. With her reply the conversation became inevitable. She messaged back, “Ded umer” (Granddad has died)…Immediately taken over by the chaotic dance of thoughts and feelings I began to shake in voiceless sobbing, the one that makes you feel at the ultimate edge when you want to burst into particles as there is no way to stand the pain becoming physical any longer. Me not yet believing, being horrified to see my grieving relatives, yet definitely urged to be with them determined dynamics of the day. Finishing the proposal, arranging for the ticket, having numerous phone talks with friends and direct line with my sister, last minute gift shopping, packing, painful getting taxi, ultimate despair that at such a moment I am again on my own to handle the hurdles and the pain of the moment …. and eventually me sitting on the board of Aeroflot plane at 4.30 am, still not quite believing I’ll touch the ground of the motherland in some odd 7 hours.
posted by Olga Tikhonova | 3:53 pm
1 Comments:
ponimaju tebia Olia, u menia v 2002 goda tak bylo: priezzhaju ja iz Turtsii - u menia ne bylo nikakoj sviazi s domom - ne bylo roaminga na mobile i ja ne schitala nuchnym zvonit', tak kak vsego nedelju tam byla.. tak vot, priezzhaju iz Marmarisa i pervoe chmo mne babushka soobschaet: "Len, na pohorony pojdesh'? ded umer."
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