life goes on

Why did I always think things like this were happening to someone else? In fact, we all always think that, don’t we?

But to be honest I never even thought of such a thing until that chilly spring day.

And yet, they were not so long ago, today I am only twenty years older. Yes, it just seems like centuries have passed or I don’t even know which unit of measurement to use.

I was coming back from school, as well as so many of these same days, full of youthful dreams and some, I would call them today, foolish hopes.

And even if this didn't happen to me, they were stupid. As with all teenagers around the world, let alone in this village where I lived.

And yes… it happens to me often to get lost in thoughts of trivia, so I better go back to the beginning of the story.

So, it was spring, when, in addition to all these youthful hormones, some first loves began to awaken.

What would I know about love?

Not only because I was young, but because I had nowhere to see or learn it.

Maybe then I thought it was all normal, that it should be, but my parents had a really weird notion of love. Constant quarrels, fights, accusations, jealousies, and then reconciliations and hysterical cries… was something I watched day after day.

In all of this no matter how lonely I was as their only child, I was happy that someone else didn’t have to watch it all.

Day by day they dragged me into a deeper abyss, almost so preoccupied with themselves, that they forgot that I existed.

I even got used to it. He was pleased with even such a small thing that at least they didn't touch me. But they didn't really pay attention to me. That doesn’t mean I didn’t have everything I needed, it just means I didn’t have them. Even though we lived together, we could also be miles and miles apart because there was a huge sea of ​​sadness between the two of them and me.

And I adjusted, what else was left for me.

But if I thought it couldn’t be worse, it could have been much, much worse.

So that one spring day and before I walked into the house I knew everything was going to change. I didn’t know why or how, I just knew something had happened, and I knew why. Suddenly there was a ghostly silence, something that was the first sign.

I didn’t call anyone, I just followed the sound of a quiet sob that was heard somewhere from the kitchen. And then it hit me like a hammer.

The sight that froze my heart and feet on I don’t even know how long.

Bloody walls and a horrible stench of death.

No one had to tell me, although until then I had never encountered anything like that I suddenly found out what death looks like.

I knelt down because my legs no longer listened to me, so I crawled to the sound of my mother sobbing. And I finally saw the whole scene in utter horror.

She was still rocking my father's dead body, bloody from the sharp stab wounds of the knife, which lay discarded somewhere at her feet.

Oh God, I thought, why? Why me?

Suddenly these two people looked to me like some strangers I had never seen. I suddenly became selfish and angry, because I really didn't deserve it. Why would the people who were supposed to love and protect me the most finally make my life hell.

I wanted to scream, but nothing came out. There was no help here either. In that crazy inconceivable moment, I thought it would be at least a little easier for me, but I couldn’t. Nothing…

And now it all suddenly came back like a boomerang.

Now, after my mother's sudden death, I found an old yellowed letter in her belongings.

How could I be so blind all my life? Her few words written with heavy anguish and soaked with tears finally resolved all my nightmares.

She died in prison, and she wasn't really guilty. How come I didn't see it then? Now I see why, because I've been selfish all these years.

She may not have been the best mother in the world, but she loved me. And in the end, she did what she had to do to protect me.

Suddenly I feel as if someone has removed the curtain from my eyes and some other memories begin. It seems like I locked them in some drawer in my brain and threw away the key a long time ago. Now the drawer opened and spilled a whole new world in front of me.

It was painful, but I know it is necessary, at least for me. I needed the truth to clear her name. Not in front of others, they were never important anyway. In front of me.

Because she was my mother and I condemned her so easily, and why? Just because it was easier for me to endure the pain.

She loved him too, but she loved me more because she took his life so I could live.

Although I was left without both after that, my life was not so bad. I was lucky to be adopted by wonderful people even though I was a teenager.

And as I hold the letter in my hands, some completely new memories come to me.

How many times has she protected me from beatings. How many times did she give me the last thing she had and said "take it, just make sure father doesn't see."

How many times did she beg me to come see her in jail, and I stubbornly refused, until it was too late.

Now I have no choice but to try to forgive myself, because I forgave her a long time ago. Although I only admit it now.

Not because she took away my father, but the illusion of family. We were a family, but never the way I wanted, never the way we were supposed to be.

But all that doesn't matter anymore. She found her peace, and now I am too…