#7 ‘SelfLess’
ELEMENTARY
7.
‘SelfLess’ (Part I )
One day, when I was about six years old, my uncle brought home a young woman he wanted to marry. I thought of her as a fascinating petite gentlewoman. Her different beauty than what I have seen in my family mesmerised me. She was quiet and kind. She treated me with warmth and understanding. Almost like a child. I fell in love with her pretty fast.
After the wedding passed in a usual manner, smelling of alcohol, music and reckless joy, she was mostly alone and I was always welcome in her home. I felt being in her company, that nothing else mattered to her, that she had no other ambition at those moments than focussing on my wellbeing, feeding me something delicious or telling funny stories. I could easily confide in her, something I still do to this day and know that she would never judge, always help and that together we will find a way to look at everything with a sense of humour...
Meanwhile, my uncle was sinking deeper and faster than anybody could notice into an abyss of his sickness, alcohol addiction. He couldn’t stand alcohol very much, but the need for the approval of his manhood was stronger than the suffering it brought him and others...
When my aunt started showing a little pregnancy belly, I was overwhelmed with joy. Being an only child, it was a gift of heavens. I visited my future cousin-sister almost every day, my loveliest companion to be. I told her stories and waited for tiny movements. Listened patiently and hanged on that growing belly for months. I walked with a pillow under my shirt imagining I was pregnant too.
The anticipation was unbearable. The firstborn of the only son of my grandparents…
When the due day came and my uncle returned from the hospital, everyone fell silent. With my seven years of life experience, I couldn’t understand why I was the only one happy. I went on asking and annoying everyone with questions but not getting an answer. They all behaved like I didn’t exist. They behaved as if someone died.
My father broke the news to me. We were walking on the banks of the river Danube. It was a peaceful autumn day, a beautiful sunset. The baby is not ‘normal’ he said. He said nothing else, or at least I haven’t noticed. How can a baby not be ‘normal’ I thought…
Days passed in silence and my aunt finally came back from the hospital. She brought home a cute little bundle. The baby did look slightly different but in the sweetest possible way. Her small split eyes and a tiny nose made her look just like a little doll. I didn’t understand back then why everyone looked into her palms…
My aunt loved her unconditionally. We all did and still do. She taught us to see life differently. My father used to describe her condition as a room with one wall missing. Her way of loving and sense of humour is priceless. So is her stubbornness. So is her feisty character. She is the best dancer I know and her hands give healing massages. With her, we learned to laugh freely and loudly and not to be afraid of different minds, or any topics. I am grateful she taught me to see the world through a lens I didn't know before and feel through her the only important thing in life, love.
I never knew a woman with a more challenging destiny than my aunt. Raising a child with special needs in the Balkans, a child that would never go to school or get any understanding or opportunities to grow or to be looked at with a sense of acceptance. A child you should hide, put into an institution… As if that was not enough, she was also the wife of an abusive alcoholic. With a different character, she would have been someone who would spiral into depression. Instead, she never stopped taking care of others, and working on some kind of a project, usually involving painting walls and rearranging furniture…
I was most happy when a couple of years after her firstborn, she gave life to a baby boy. For some time we were holding our breath, something I will always do when a child is on its way. He turned out to be a beautiful, healthy boy. He grew to be a strong and talented man, the bearer of the family name, with the same ability to love and selflessly be there for others, even when that meant taking a bullet for his mother. But, that’s another story...
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