Homecoming

Another early rise, this time with a suitcase in hand and a heart both heavy and light. I was headed to the airport, homebound. There’s always a certain duality in returning, I love the independence of my own space, but there’s nothing quite like being with family. The laughter, the connection, the grounding presence of those who know you best. After months away, navigating uncertainty and change, the thought of coming home felt like a soft landing for my soul.

Still, this homecoming carried a bittersweet note. For the first time, my ma wouldn’t be there. Everything would feel a little different, and I knew I had to mentally prepare myself for that reality. Loss has a way of reshaping the spaces we return to, of shifting the way we hold memory and presence all at once.

The flight itself felt like a quiet reflection. And then, arrival. My best friend was waiting, arms open, ready with a hug that said more than words ever could. There was no need for explanations. Just a knowing. A shared understanding. A few tears slipped out, not of sadness alone but of release, of recognition, of love.

Being home brought with it a sense of relief, a gentle peace within myself. The humility, warmth, and genuine kindness of the people here, those who have always held a special place in my heart, felt like a breath of fresh air, reminding me that I’m rooted, no matter how far I wander.

Later in the evening, we gathered for prayer. I was so grateful to be part of it. A joyful, soulful space shared with family and friends, united in remembrance of a loved one gone too soon. As we sat together in the lounge, talking, reminiscing, laughing softly through the stories, I felt comforted. There was healing in that togetherness, in prayer, in shared memory.

Coming home isn’t always easy. Sometimes it stirs both joy and ache in equal measure. But today, I was reminded that even in the bittersweet, there is beauty. I was home. And I was glad to be here.

~Nerusha