5pm at Harbour Front ferry terminal, on this significant day, the first of September 2009. Just after his afternoon nap & a bottle of reassuring milk. A dramatic farewell on a stormy afternoon. Moods as sombre as the skies. Grandparents rallied for extra measure & comfort. Everything possible done to caccoon him for the bumpy ride ahead. Seat belts buckled!
I tried to prepare him by telling him we were going to see boats & to say goodbye to Aunty Tamik who had to go away for a 'holiday' to see her family. His initial response was a brave "ok". Tinged with a maturity that surprised. It was unexpectedly reassuring. Somehow you knew it wasn't going to last. The stormy weather outside was a portent of what lay ahead.
He clung to her on the walk from the car park to the ferry terminal. Both not saying much. She tried to break the tension by amusing him with the harbour scene outside as we stood by the glass windows waiting for boarding time to arrive. Conversation was difficult. Tamik was in a fragile state. The silent veil was transparently thin. Evan seemed quietly disturbed. A strange muted business bellied his actions. Confused perhaps. A foreboding of what lay ahead. Unable to express himself adequately possibly. So young & already so abandoned. Tamik has been more than just a nanny since his birth. She has been his maternal shadow for the last two years. The bond ran deep & wide.
It was all over quickly. An intense hug from Evan as he was instructed to say goodbye. Tamik appeared slightly stunned. An uncomfortable silence. Awkward glances. Quick handshakes. We pulled away to ensure no messy histrionics ensued. He insisted on watching from the windows. Hoping to glimpse as she walked to the boat. "I want Aunty Tamik" echoed incessantly through the hallway. So we decided to walk away to catch some dinner. Perhaps he was hungry too. At each turn, he would be looking eagerly to see if she was around the corner- hide & seek was one of their favorite games. We tried to distract him as best as we could, but you could tell in his eyes that it was scant consolation. Tamik called my mobile phone after she had boarded & was obviously distraught. In between sobs, she thanked me & enquired how Evan was taking it. I had to curb my initial instincts to put him on the phone as I realised that it would do both no good at this delicate time. I wished her well & reassured her that he would be ok.
When we finally reached home, he pointed at the door, saying "Aunty Tamik open the door", hoping she was after all, at home & about to welcome him as was her custom. Quiet acceptance greeted the darkened hall as we entered. It would be a long night. By now, tired & whiny, Aunty Tamik's name reverberated through the house until the cloud of exhaustion took its toll.
The final throes of a traumatic day culminated in a sudden unusual awakening at 2 a.m. Evan was at my door crying "Daddy, daddy, come and sleep with me!". It would be another long chapter for such a young life.
