A piece of my heart now lives continents apart.

As I sit at SFO International Airport, saying bye to my babies—Gauraa, Matthew… and my two four-legged shadows, Joey and Rocco—I can already feel that familiar ache settling in. The mind has begun its return journey to India: long OPDs, surgery lists, patients waiting (and reminding me gently, then not so gently) that I dared to take a three-week break just to be a mother.

But the heart… the heart has already split.

One part stays back here—quiet, watchful, whispering prayers for my children’s happiness and safety, for paws that remain playful and hearts that stay loved.
The other part is already home—curling into my parents’ hugs, sisters gup -chup …craving ghar ki adrak wali chai, and counting on my girl gang to hold me steady till I find my balance again.

When parents like us send our children across oceans, the world often watches with quick conclusions. I don’t want to explain. I only want to request—gently.

Please be a little less judgmental.
And a little more understanding.

No parent sends their child away without their own heart travelling along. Every goodbye costs us more than words can explain. We hold them longer. We breathe them in deeper. Because we never quite know when the next meeting will come, or how long the wait will feel.

We don’t stop needing our children.
We simply learn to love them from a distance.

So if you see parents like us smiling bravely at airports, know that it takes courage to walk away while your heart stays behind. Know that every prayer we whisper carries names, faces, paw prints, and promises.

This is not detachment.
This is love—quiet, stretched across continents.

— Suvi’s Scribbles