I was dumbfounded when I saw my wife leaving home hurriedly to the airport. The suitcase wheels echoed through the living room.
Our life in Singapore was always bustling. But the constant hum of the city was no match for the silence that filled our home that day.
Our son, Kai, was just seven. His innocent eyes widened as he watched his mother leave. He didn’t understand. How could he? His world revolved around his mother’s warm hugs and bedtime stories. And now, she was leaving him behind.
I tried to explain to Kai that his mother needed a break. That she was tired and needed some time alone. But how do you explain to a child that his mother, his universe, needed a vacation from him?
The first few days were the hardest. Kai would wake up in the middle of the night, calling out for his mother. Each time, I would hold him close, whispering promises of her return. But with each passing day, his calls became less frequent, his cries less desperate. It was as if he was learning to live without her.
Meanwhile, I was juggling my job and taking care of Kai. It was exhausting, but it gave me a newfound respect for my wife. I realized how much she did for us, how much she sacrificed. I wished she had talked to me, told me she was feeling overwhelmed. We could have figured something out, found a solution together.
On the eighth day, my wife called. She sounded different, lighter. She told me about the places she had visited, the people she had met. But there was a hint of guilt in her voice, a silent apology that she left unsaid.
When she returned on the tenth day, Kai was hesitant. He looked at his mother as if she was a stranger. It broke my heart, but I knew it was a wound that would heal with time.
That night, as I tucked Kai into bed, he asked me, “Will mommy leave us again?” I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to assure him, promise him that she would never leave. But I couldn’t. Because I didn’t know if she would.
In the days that followed, we tried to return to our normal lives. But things had changed. We were more aware of each other, more appreciative. My wife started spending more time with Kai, and I helped out more at home.
Looking back, I realize that those ten days were a wake-up call for us. They made us realize that we were taking each other for granted. We learned that it’s important to communicate, to share our burdens, and to appreciate each other.
And while I hope my wife never feels the need to leave us again, I know that if she does, we’ll be able to handle it. Because we’re stronger now, more understanding. And in the end, isn’t that what family is all about?