We all have our own definition of coming home. I did too. Plain and simple: return to the family and feel alive. As most of us take ‘Home’ as a concept that transcends the physical space where we live. A place where our heart lies. The past few months taught me many new dimensions of home coming. 

Home is childhood. Last month when I stepped off the flight, the weight of my father’s loss engulfed me immediately. While the heart was sinking and missed a beat, I came home to my childhood, a place where I grew up. The sweet fragrance of a joint family home, which Papa built with immense love and dedication. I could hear back the conversations, his voice and stories. The living room, once bustling with family functions and gatherings, seemed eerily still. The kitchen, which never stopped cooking, now felt empty and unused. The sofa where Papa used to sit and chat, the bed where he would sleep and our hiding nest, all seemed to hold the imprints of memories etched in time. Each corner told a story of what was once my childhood. Walking through the old neighborhood to buy fresh flowers daily and visit the temple was overwhelming to experience memories of dreams that once filled my eyes. This neighborhood defined my drive and hunger in life to envision the future to be independent and make it big. Family time daily and meeting all the relatives felt like ‘Darshan’ which is a mixture of seeing, being seen, and reflection of the experience. All those days, I felt meeting myself.

Home is the spiritual sanctuary. The base of my faith. The ideas I have chosen. The part of me without judgment. The past life connections and relationships. Righteousness of my actions. Devotion to the supreme power. Realization of life’s stages. A sense of loss, pain, and gain. The time between marriage and adulthood, devoting full energy in building family. Being home after 23 years for such a long time and spending time with siblings brought many memories and reflections. What was tying us together at the end of each day was finding meaning in life and death. Reflecting on what we have done and what more needs to be achieved. We built plans for spiritual trips and journeys to take together with each other and yet to find ourselves and unfold the meaning of our birth on this planet. We refreshed our WhatsApp groups and made weekend plans to reconnect. Exchanging prayer rituals and sharing insights on auspicious fasting. Taking our first trip to Vashino Devi as a mark of Papa’s last wish. A journey none of us visualised but it happened. I could feel the power and purpose of why all this was happening now. In Papa’s passing, he tied us all together which was his life in one word ‘together’. In his death, we found the meaning of life and our individual spiritual awakening.

Home is a filter. The past few months showed the real face of people around us. Be it family or friends. Like mom use to say when we were kids, ‘You bring only the closet ones to home’, and now when I was meeting myself at home in new ways, I realized who was standing beside us and who not. Who was genuinely caring and who was faking it? Who was just ticking the box and who was reconnecting? Slowly with days passing by many people got left behind, as a sign of who to bring home and who not. A big filtration process. Reuniting those whom we left a while back in hustle and bustle of life and removing those who didn’t hold any meaning now. Now the close pack we are, is what will hold each other in thick and thin. We are where we started from, and that is why it is said, ‘life is a full circle’.

Home is the new zest of life. I stepped into this new phase of life where from now onwards only a few things will matter the most – settle kids to the stage where they are financially independent; work for what you are passionate about; build retirement nest; and take gratitude pilgrimages with family. Eat less and serve more. Give more and hold back less. When Papa passed away, I asked many why? Slowly the dots are connecting and meaning of why what is happening is starting to make sense. God’s plan is always bigger and better than what we want. I am learning to trust the process of life.

Ultimately realizing, home coming is a sense of self. It is where our stories begin and end. It is where we find love, we give affection and unfold the true meaning of life. I am grateful to God for bringing me home.