“I have had worse partings,” writes Irish poet Cecil Day-Lewis in Walking Away.
“Like a satellite wrenched from its orbit, go drifting away,” writes Lewis, having watched his son, “a hesitant figure, eddying away like a winged seed loosened from its parent stem”.
Lewis, observing from a distance, sees the boy disappear into a mass of boys each beginning his new phase of life at boarding school.
Lewis knows the inevitable separation is necessary for his son’s selfhood, independence, then interdependence, but it nonetheless “gnaws” at his soul. He accepts the process of “nature’s give and take”.
I have held on to these words for decades, tried, for much longer, to live within the idea that everything that is living requires space.
Everything living desires room to grow, room to…