It was a very weird feeling, she was crying tears gushing down her eyes, telling me about her loss.
I came out from the mosque that evening. the weather was cold and humid. the taste of the salt of the sea was in the air. the shadow of the minaret was covering the yard of the mosque. under the shadow I saw that grey haired woman silently standing, asking for help… money to be more frank. I went to her to give her a bit of what I had. she didn’t take the money first and took out her wallet. In my mind, I was thinking that she was going to ask for some more money, after all this is a generic tactic of the beggars, they first ask for a few coins and then when you give them they will try lure some more from you. some of them made a fortune from this.
I wanted to go away from that place quickly and leave her. but she insisted to show me what she had. she put her hand in her wallet. I noticed that her hands were shaking. she her hands out something appeared from the wallet. when I took a look, I was stunned. it was something I have never expected. something that played with the strings of my heart, something that immediately made my stance uncomfortable, it was a photo… of her dead son!
She was sobbing. tears running down and shimmering on her saddened wrinkled face. me that her son was only 27 when he was murdered. with a lump in her throat she said ” he.. was only 27… he couldn’t.. take a full.. taste of life.. he was still young.” her voice was so dry, it felt like razor is passing through my eardrum to my brain. I told myself “Man, this is real sadness”.
I was frozen cold from what I saw! the only thing I could do was to give her a hug. and she hugged me really tightly. I tried to console her with some words but, I think my words were too weak to extinguish the ignited fire within her heart.
Now, I understood what losing a beloved one really felt like. how divergence kills you and tears you into shreds from inside and your only consolation is a bunch of memories that will soon fade away. Now I understood true love. how annihilating it is. now I recognize the melancholy caused by divergence.
The figure of that woman, will forever be in my memory. a multiple lessons of life in a single moment. I can call it, mark it and remember it as the night I discovered the cruciating part of love.