Once on her way to school, a small kid caught her eye, may be of same age as hers; she kept looking at him, not at what he was doing or wearing but trying to decipher what expressions he had on his face, what he was feeling and what could be the reason behind that small solemn grim face of his. She wasn’t that old herself, must be seven years or so when that happened, however, she could still remember what she had prayed for in that very instant.
O God, make me understand everyone’s emotions; make me feel them so I can help them go through what they have trouble going through alone.
Ever since, time flew at its pace, coursing through space, marking its presence as it pleased, carving memories and desires, while washing off the unwanted or unacknowledged ones. She was now in her early thirties, entering a rather newer phase of her life, unbeknownst to what laid ahead of her now, or if she had the strength to face it or not.
 She still remember what she had prayed for when she was seven, and there was a name for that skill, people called it ’empathy’. So was she an empath now and how was that working out for her, she would ask herself whenever she was all by herself. It was pain amidst peace, or peace amidst chaos. But it was worth it.
The year had started like any other, with nothing out of the blue as such. Who knew what awaited the whole world then. It was 2020, and for her it had, if not all, majority of her fears come true.
She was never scared of death, but what it made the loved ones of the deceased go through was of much more anguish. And it would bleed her heart constant when the deceased was her own loved one and so were the ones around. She knew she had no right or power or authority over who faced what harm in this world, but could she not have been there to ease their pain, the thought would keep her awake many nights.
People would ask her to focus on what she could control, limit her concern with what she could influence, so her efforts could bring some tangible results. She would just stare at them blankly, bemused.
How can they not feel what she is feeling? How can they not feel the pain, longing, and despair of the mother who had lost her pure, youthful eldest daughter to an unforeseen car accident, or the pain of the siblings who had lost their youngest brother to an illness which could have seen cure if wasn’t left unattended by either, or the suffering of a mother who had not only lost her unborn child to a medical complication, but was also living her life day by day in the hopes of recovery. Who could comprehend the trauma and emptiness for each, who could stay unaffected by that? She could never as that’s what she had prayed for once, to feel what others were feeling, to cure what they could not. But what is the cure for death or the absolute sense of loss it brings? How does one reason that out?
Be there. Yes, being there for them whenever they need someone to talk to, share with, vent out to, to make sense of their lives, to move forward, to give them a hand in picking the leftovers and starting anew. Yes, that could be it. She could be there for them or anyone whom she thought or felt needed help with patching up their hearts. She could bring reasons to smile again for them, or a sense of purpose, or just be a dear friend they may need to rely on when something went wrong.
Will that work out well? She yet has to figure that out. She is still learning.
Love,
An Empath.
MSKWritesNow 