Mom and God
I imagined I could write articles about coffee, women, animals, nature, and many other things, but writing about my Mother was unexpected.
She passed away unexpectedly and quietly, as she wanted… She often asked about this in her lonely moments when she was diving deep into unjust topics. She had lost and was losing her relatives…It was difficult for her to accept one of such losses, and she would often raise her hands to God and ask, “I’ve been fair and lived my life honestly, please, give me a momentary death Lord… Don’t leave me in bed, don’t leave me in someone’s care.” And God heard her…
For about 45 years, I’ve been a companion of a person with many personalities… Was that person my Mother, teacher, friend, or my personal philosopher?.. I’d close my eyes and imagine the coffee smell made by my Mother, over which we had our daily conversations… I could see in my mind how I was running and asking her through the half-open door, “Are you awake? Shall we make coffee?” And in the evening, after work, I’d happily knock on the door and hear her sweet voice full of sarcasm from inside.
- Is that you, rat?
- It’s me, Mom!
- Paaaah, you got your name.
I was standing on the edge of silence… It was an abyss, a white abyss beyond which I was looking for my Mother’s smile hanging in the air… I heard her voice far away in the distance… The feeling of unsatisfied yearning continued to weigh in the air…
Everything was quick but prepared… Then, I realized how much she was prepared and how much she’d prepared me. It seemed I should have lost my mind, but the instructions left by my Mother were passing through my mind one by one: the black dress she’d put aside, the picture she’d put in the closet and noted, “Don’t be in a mess when the moment arrives. People would take any picture when in a mess.”
I was looking at the picture she’d chosen and thinking, “What a sweet smile, what beautiful eyes.”
I was on an absurd mental quest… I was looking for a hopeless connection to stand close to her again. I often tried to cook her meals, meanwhile talking to her and asking her opinion about the taste of the meal. When I cooked well, I thought with a sad smile she would like it. I established cleanliness and order in the house to keep what my mother was watching after. I’d kept the nuts for her last meal in a separate place… I’d carefully separated and kept them in a jewelry box…The nuts she had at hand. Teardrops were hanging and rolling to and fro, telling the wandering air about my chronic woe. But I had to continue…
An unspeakable will had invaded me together with the sadness I felt. I was working from morning till evening. Despite being tired, I was active. I had no regret because we had come a long way, and she’d been present during all my travels, visits to cafes and theaters, concerts and movie theaters, and during our weekly car tours… I only missed our conversations… Countless conversations: about life and death, love and loyalty, honesty and justice, about God and conscience.
Who was my Mother, and what did she leave for me? She left me with the idea of living happily and freely. I was the inheritor of the powerful stock of her thoughts, which didn’t allow me to grumble. I knew how to carry on. In difficult moments, I was opening the powerful library of my Mother’s thoughts and pulling a suitable thought for me from the shelves ‒ the thought of living happily. I’d heard about happiness from many people, but my Mother’s ideas about female happiness were completely different. Everything revolved around knowledge, freedom, travel, one’s own life, and around self-revelation. The female saga about one’s husband and dreamy children never found a place there.
My mother was a woman of principle… She took a principled stand even on her death. She wasn’t cheered up by a sweet lie, fake theater, or a blown-up balloon with which many wrap themselves to appear happy… She loved the real, the fair, the right, the honest, the loyal, and the devoted… I dream of being so principled, following my ideas, and not giving myself up to people transforming in the common gray.
Her words kept running through my mind…My Lord, I’ve been fair, I’ve lived my life honestly, give me a momentary death…Which world are you in now, Mom?.. Maybe in a more authentic, complete, and more luxurious world like you…
Love you, Mom…
