Letting It Go

The hospital room has that familiar smell of medicaments when you come round. You hear fragments of a conversation as your mind is awakening: ’severe atrial fibrillation... transferred from emergency care... needs occasional supervision... ’, says a man's voice, apparently that of a doctor, with two women's voices chiming ín occasionally. As the last thing you remember is roaming the streets of the city’s historical district, you assume that you have been taken to cardiology after you had had the blackout. Luckily, they had been able to get in touch with the assigned home care nurse, whom you had notified before deserting your home for an unplanned excursion, due to which you had failed to take your prescribed drugs.

The room falls silent after the doctor says ’let hím rest for about an hour, his state is now stable’, and they leave the room. You slowly open your eyes and they start wandering about the room, taking in the surroundings. You glance at the small night table next to rhe hospital bed and you smile as you notice that a careful hand had neatly put all your belongings within reach. You notice the photo that you have been keeping close to yourself all this while and extend your right hand to grab it and take another look.

The smiling young woman on the picture is Angela, a young Roma girl in her early twenties, whom you met when accompanying a group of ethnographers in the summer months forty years ago to a rural Roma settlement far from your home city, as a photographer. Angela, being the most educated person ín the community as a young schoolteacher, was your guide during the three weeks you spent at the settlement, enjoying the hospitality of its dwellers. She was already living with her family in the nearby town but she spent a lot of time at the settlement with her relatives. Most of them were rather shy at seeing the man with the camera as they called you, but Angela kept encouraging them and offen sat down with you as well, to discuss what photos to use as illustrations for the study paper. Her observations were always keen and relevant. It was then that you also took a close-up portrait of her as well, as she was wearing her hand-embroidered head scarf covering her shoulders, and of course her brightest smile. You were considering to include it in the study illustrations but since it grew too personal in no time, you decided to use another one, where she was shown doing some handywork. The portrait has never departed from you ever since.

For sure, she did touch your heart and you were about to confess your feelings to her when it was disclosed that they had already promised her hand to a young lad from the community. Hard as this endogamous reality hit you on the face, at a snap you felt that she would be much more than a love interest – a sort of another Beatrice, an eternal inspiration, enabling you to make people smile in the same way she put a smile on other people’s faces with her cheerful demeanour. And she was to be forever locked in your heart, no matter what.

When you took leave from her, you gave her a handmade spoon secretly carved by yourself as a gift, while she returned the favour by giving you a small linen bag full of various bakery for the road and an embroidered handkerchief – all made by herself. You agreed to keep in touch and exchanged several heartfelt letters, until she announced the next summer that she was going to marry in a month. Just then you were caught up in a job for a magazine that required you to travel abroad, and your correspondence stopped, with the promise that you would see her and her husband soon.

Fast-forward seven restless years, during which work prevented you from visiting her. Then you received a phone call from Angela’s younger sister Lina that Angela was taken to hospital and would like to talk to you. Upon hearing this, you immediately called in sick at work and took the train to her home town to visit her at the hospital. Lina, a young woman with a larger share of shyness than her sister, was waiting for you with her two children and accompanied you to the hospital. You had an uneasy feeling and it proved justified. Lina led you into a hospital room where you spotted Angela in a half-seated position on the bed. The familiar glistening in her dark eyes was now somewhat faded and broken, but she still smiled brightly when she noticed you. Lina walked up to her and they exchanged a few whispered words, after which Lina walked out to wait outside, and you could sit next to Angela’s bed on a chair. As you sat down, you spotted that the spoon you had gifted her was lying beside her in the bed.

She spoke in a somewhat weakened but calm voice, explaining you that a few months earlier she had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer that had resisted treatment and by then had formed metastases.She was aware that she had only a few weeks left, and had wanted to see you. She had been unable to bear children but had been educating kids at a village school and also took care of those in her family. At the time, her husband was away on seasonal work but her family members did attend her. When you asked If the thought of parting with life was not hard, she responded that she had given all she had ín store to the children She had talent care of, and was ready to let go of life itself, as she believed that she was about to depart to a happier world beyond this one. Then she added:

’I’ve been given so much more time than the leaves of grass and the flowers, so I should be grateful. I’m ready to let go of everything... But for you, it’s harder ’cause you’ve got to let go of me and it takes much longer.’

Astonished, you asked how she knew all this, and she responded that she had never been blind to your feelings, she had seen what she had to see even back then, but she felt she had to submit to the will of the community. It was already too much that she had chosen to pursue higher studies instead of marrying. So she had chosen to conform in such an important matter, as she also appreciated her future husband.  

Her words about letting her go and the realisation that she had secretly replicated your feelings made tears well up in your eyes. You took out the handkerchief that you had received from her. On seeing this, she asked for your help to rise into a sitting position, and you gently grabbed her hand. When sitting, she took the handkerchief from your hand and carefully wiped your face, then gave it back to you. This act from her part was immediately imprinted into your mind as you helped her lie back. Then, somewhat relieved, you tried to focus all your attention to her. She shared with you that she hoped to leave this world laughing as she had never been able to cry, not even when being sad. She was having physical pains but was able to ignore them whenever she had people around, and someone from her family was always around. 

Noticing that she was getting tired, you got up and offered to call Lina and the kids back into the room. She nodded with a smile and asked for your hand. You grabbed it with both hands and bid farewell in her native dialect they were still using at home, having learnt some basic expressions from Angela herself. She waved you with a tired smile, and when you made it to the door and looked back at her, you saw her closing her eyes. Outside, you bid Lina go back to her sister, and also took leave of her in her native language, which lighted up her face worn out by constant worry and staying awake. She gave you handwritten directions to her home and you spent the rest of the day with her family, leaving for home the next day.

News of Angela’s departure reached you through a letter from her family a few weeks later. As you were again headed to an assignment abroad, you could not attend the funeral but sent a letter of condolence to the family highlighting Angela’s meríts. After mourning her loss you resolved to keep her alive in your mind, and to treat people with the same devotion you had seen from her. This resolve took you through later tribulations such as a failed marriage and especially when you opened your own photo studio and started making portraits, you offen felt as if she was counselling you.

A rattling sound brings you back to your own hospital room. It is a nurse pushing a cart, now standing with her back to you, busy with the dosage of your prescription pills. When ready, she turns round and hands you the pills. She is a thirty-something, with black hair and dark glistening eyes. 

’You were lucky they found you quickly after you had lost consciousness’, she says in a kind voice.

’For sure it was my guardian angel, or the fact that today’s date is my lucky number’, you respond jovially, taking the pills. ’You know, one is easily given to superstition being seventy-plus.’ 

’No problem, I have my share of superstitions, and I also believe in guardian angels’, she says with a smile.  

You pull out Angela’s portrait and bid her come closer.

’Look, she is almost like my guardian angel, I feel like she is still guiding me.’

At this moment you realise that you have given away a secret never shared with anyone before, but there is no going back now.

She steps closer, looks at the picture, then at you, and utters with astonishment: 

’But... but this is my late aunt. Where did you get this picture?’

’Made it myself’, you respond, looking at her more closely. ’Many years ago we were gathering data for a study paper at the settlement and your aunt was our guide. I wanted a memory of her.’

’O dear Lord, I can’t believe it. We were indeed visited by ethnographers but a long time ago, I wasn’t even born yet. So are you the man with the camera I often hear mentioned?’

’Absolutely. May I ask for your name?’

’Veronica, I am Lina’s youngest daughter. I trust you know my mother, too.’ 

You give a nod of affirmation.

Her face lights up with heartfelt joy as she starts speaking: 

’You know, Angela was a legend in the family but sadly I didn’t meet her. I was a late kid and by then she was no longer around... Oh well, her memory does live on, she has a memorial corner in the house, and we speak about her a lot. She is my inspiration, I think it is because of her that I became a nurse.’

’And weren’t you uncomfortable with coming to such a large city?’

’Oh, I can take care of myself. They no longer expect us to remain close to the family. I moved here because of my husband. He’s not a Roma, this fact would have been outrageous not so long ago. But they said it was my happiness that mattered most.’

You give a thoughtful nod and after a brief pause you proceed: 

’Please don’t forget to pass my greetings to your family. And you know what? You can have this picture.’

’This is very kind of you, but it’s a memento...’

’Sure, but you never saw your aunt alive. Who knows how much time I have left. If anyone deserves to have the photo, then it’s you. In any case, I will be more than glad to give it to you.’

She approaches the night table with hesitation.

’That’s it, just take it.’

’If this is what you want...’

’Absolutely.’

’Thank you...’

She extends her hand and takes the picture, then holds it close to her heart with her eyes closed for a few moments, before sliding it into the pocket of her uniform jacket. You are visibly moved by the sight. 

’Well done, Veronica. In exchange, you can be my guardian angel, at least while I’m here. Who knows, I may even end up believing in reincarnation, too...’

She is smiling, apparently having taken the hint. And you feel like something has come full circle.