By: Maya Ayu Puspita

Upon living a wonderful pathetic live, I realized there are two type of people in this world: the one who stays and other who leaves. Mom decided to be the second one since I took my first steps, or since I cut my first tooth? I can’t barely remember. Dad was in the other hand. He stayed. He was there when I screamed blue murder seeing blood rolling down my leg to my ankle, it was my very first period and I got very panicked. He was also there at the time I broke my own right hand after run into our mailbox with my skateboard, he nursed my injury because he was a doctor himself. He was rushing in my school bus when I forgot to bring my lunch box, he said that he was driving like Brian O’Conner jumping two red lights. He was my hero, my doctor, my chef, and all I need him to be.

However, Dad would not be there anymore, no matter how loud I called him. Regina Spektor’ The Call was our lullaby. He used to sing the song for me, but that night was different. He said he was tired, it was weird because he had never been tired in anyway. Dad was like a dog with a bone to everything, even for living he was that passionate. So I brought him to sleep and sang him our lullaby. He fell to sleep quickly, I guessed he was extremely tired. The next morning, I decided to made the breakfast. I waited for him downstairs, but he never came until the breakfast I made turned cold. I went upstrais to his room, woke him up. He was not moving, he was leaving. At the second, I know that he chose to be the second type.


Never I could had imagined that I would met her again. The worse thing was I lived with her again, as requested by Dad on his wills. She took me as easy as blinking her eyes like I was all nothing and what had happened for fifteen years were all nothing.

“I wondering what was your heart made from?” cynically I whispered.

She raised her eyebrows. “That’s a rude question.”

What she wore from head to toe were could pay my tuition fee for two semester. She changed a lot. She was covered by glamourous and luxury. She was not Mom who I used to know.

Our first dinner after her leaving was not so different to be compared with a war. “Can you imagine how could it be if a dining table talks?” she offered a random question.

I replied, “Can you imagine how could it be if a one year old left behind girl talked?”

She sighed. “Your Dad asked me to leave, that’s not what I wanted.”

“Really?” I stopped eating. “If a dining table can talk, I guess it will be the most grateful thing because they witness every precious moment of a family.”

She was in silent.

“Mine was very lucky because me and Dad shared a lot of good news every dinner.” I continued.

“Then mine must be envy yours.”

I laughed. “What a poor table. How about you? Don’t you feel jealous too?”

“If I do it will be pretty useless.”

I laughed louder, my blood was burning as I was laughing. “You should! You decided to leave us. You decided to live with your own luxury and glamorous thing by yourself!” I yelled at her and she started to cry. “Don’t you deny it! It’s clear enough!”

My feet led me to left her and went to my room, bumped myself to my bed and did what she did—crying.


Dad once told me what would happened if Mom did not leave. She would be like a zombie—a living dead. She only had two options, to leave her family or to give up her dream. If Dad had never let Mom go, he would never have forgiven himself. Mom without her dream was like Mom without her soul. She was very passionate with music. Music always had been her best friend since her childhood. Music was the reason why they met, why they fell in love with each other, why they got married, also why they separated.Music made her lived happily, but also changed her. Music made her more ambitious than before. She wanted to be the best and she did it. Sadly, she was not the happiest version of herself. She was lonely, she was forced by tight schedules.

But, Dad never told me about him. I was spending my time guessing uncountable possibilities. Was he fine? Absolutely not. So, why did he made the decision to let Mom go? Dad, did you miss her? Had you ever wished that we should not take turn to cook or wash dishes if Mom stayed? Or you should not got worried about my lunch box because if Mom stayed she would organized everything so well.

I keep guessing so many ifs, then I did not realize that it all uncontrolably turned into hatred.


Now, I was one hundred percent positively depending my life on Mom. This morning, I visited Dad’s house and I got my acceptance letters. Two acceptance letters. One was from Harvard Medical School, which is a good news. Another one was from Longy School of Music of Bard College.

I was pretty sure that I never sent anything to that college, but I knew who did it. Dad. He was always saying that I was good at singing. I had a good taste of music like Mom. I said to him I did not want to be like Mom. I wanted to be like him. I wanted to help people around me, spending my life to care of each other.

Deep down inside my heart, I loved to sing. Singing made me feel way much better to face every problem in my life. I learned to deliver my emotion through singing. Besides, every time I started to sing I faced a nightmare every night. I was scared. I was afraid to be like Mom, to be like a figure I never wanted to be. I loved singing, I loved a symphony. Mom sang very beautiful symphony with her songs. I listened to them only once but they got inside my heart and my mind forever. Mom herself is a beautiful symphony, but I had chosen to be deaf.


I went back to Mom’s house very late because I did not want to see her. It hurt me more after receiving the letters. I could not sleep well. I missed Dad. I missed his singing of The Call which used to brought me to sleep. Someone knocked my door and it must be her. I did not respond, then she came in.

“You sleep?” she was sitting on my bed. I turned my face on her and shook my head. “You miss him?”

I did not know why, I also did not realize when my arm reached her body and hugged her. My tears were falling down. “I miss you more, I guess.”

She held me more tight. “You want me to sing a lullaby? The Call?”

My eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“I wonder in what way he taught you. You always offer rude questions.” She smiled.

I looked into her eyes, looking for something that I wished would give me some clues of what had happened.

“I wish I never left you.” I felt her tears on my shoulder. “He was so kind, a good man, a great father and husband. He let me go so I can achieve my dreams, but never let me lose you.”

Her words made me getting more confused.

“I know sometimes you get annoyed when he recorded everything you do. Your birthday parties, your graduation moments, your singing. Oh, your singing is beautiful, sweetheart. You have such an angelic voice.” She kept hugging me and started to sang my lullaby.

What kind of feeling it was called, when your hatred suddenly turned reverse? I felt my hatrederased like a burned marshmallow mixed with melting chocolate between two crackers, it was sweet. Her hug felt the warm color of falling leaves in spring, my favorite season.

She was still singing, by the time I felt her so real, I knew I was not deaf any longer. Also I realized there was only one type of people. I used to think that my Dad stayed before he left and Mom stayed after she left, but then I knew, they never left nor stayed. They were always be there, completing my symphony.