OBSIDIAN: Birth to Venus

2075

Mom called. “Jai, let’s move to Chiang Mai.” Her voice seemed bright, but Jai could hear the sadness underneath it. “I know you’re busy wrapping up your Ph.D. at Stanford, but I’d love for you to join me, when you can. I’ve decided to continue my work with the Universities there. It would mean so much to have you with me.”

Six years had passed since they’d lost Darin, but adjusting remained Mom’s work-in-progress. Having a second child so late in life was a wondrous gift to her. But, it wasn’t rare. With all the advancements in reproductive science, women often waited to have children in their 50’s, some even as late as 60 years old. Still, when Mom considered becoming pregnant at 43, her friends questioned it, asking only half-jokingly: “Are you sure you don’t have amnesia? You really want another baby? You do remember the late night crying and diapers galore, right?” They’d reminded her, “Jai’s nearly in college.” Her favorite was “One word: poop-pocalypse.” Mom understood where her friends were coming from. Mom and Dad loved to travel. Naturally, their friends questioned how a newborn would fit into their adventures. But, that hardly deterred them. They knew what they wanted. Later, Jai learned they’d planned for over a year before Darin was conceived.

Losing him was especially hard. Cancer had weakened him slowly, but the infection and deadly consequences were abrupt. Jai could sense how difficult it was for her mother to process his death, even years later. Increasingly, Mom had found herself drawn to Chiang Mai. It was the last place they’d spent time with him before he was admitted to the hospital. Jai pictured the villa, sitting out on the sala, and remembered the good times: chasing Darin down the beach; watching the sunsets; strolling along the fields.

“Jai?” Mom beckoned her back to reality. “Please, join me.”

“I’d love to, Mom. I’m nearly finished preparing my defense, so I won’t have to spend as much time at the U. The timing’s good.” But, more than that, Jai knew Mom needed her. It was also the three-year anniversary of her father’s passing. A blood clot. It had traveled up to his heart, hit his lungs, and that was it. It surprised everyone who knew him. By all appearances, Dad was not only thin, but muscular. He was an avid biker, hiker, and loved kayaking. He was as fit as could be. But, his cholesterol was always something to contend with and, when he went kayaking with his friends (down the Nile of all places) he went down for a roll and didn’t come up. Not the elegant way he usually did, anyway. The doctors said, even if a medevac were nearby, the pulmonary embolism would have been fatal.

“I’m so glad you’ll come,” Mom said. “Nothing would please me more.” She paused. “And, Jai, this time, I hope you’ll meditate with me.” Jai promised to consider it, the meditation training Mom had begun under the tutelage of the local monks. Jai had had a hard time warming up to it. The chanting and blessings, though beautiful, stood far from the world she knew. She’d finished her Masters; spent most of her time and attention working on her Ph.D. at Stanford; and, in parallel with her studies, she’d launched a manufacturing and technology business. Engineering and math had kept her grounded and sane, in a way feelings and reflection did not. In fact, the more Jai opened up to her emotional side, the more she could feel her heart palpitate.

Mom sensed her reluctance. “I know you don’t like to talk about yourself, but, speaking from my own experience, losing your brother and father these last few years has been too much, too soon.”

Jai knew her mother wasn’t speaking of only herself. “Yes, it is hard to cope.” Jai admitted that much. Mom was coping far better than she was. “I’ll try to join you this time,” Jai promised. That afternoon, she made arrangements to run her business remotely. It was two years old then, a fledgling, but largely self-sufficient with the team she’d assembled. She trusted them to follow her directions from afar. More importantly, she realized that she and her mother needed time, time away from the structured life they had, to regroup and reconnect with themselves and what little family they had left.

When she arrived in Chiang Mai, it was early morning. She could smell the earth, feel its immediate, raw beauty. Months had passed since she’d agreed to make the move. She’d just passed her defense and traveled unannounced. She was excited to surprise her mom. She walked to the nearby school and asked a student where her mother was. “I was just speaking with her,” he said. “She’s in the temple.”

Before Jai had even taken off her shoes to cross the threshold, the strong, spicy aroma of incense enveloped her. The room was clear, except for some pillows splayed out along the floor. The morning sun was streaking in, through the windows along each side. The middle of the room was dark, but far in the distance, she could see the outline of her mother’s body. Mom sat relaxed in a lotus pose. Her eyes were closed. Her hands rested, one atop another, in her lap. Jai raised a foot, just about to tip-toe inside, when Mom surprised her. “Jai,” she whispered. She hadn’t even opened her eyes.