The Treasure Box
It's a nondescript shoe box. Maybe it contained my husband's shoes. That's why it's so big. The lid doesn't come off, but falls to the side.. still attached. A strange place to keep love. Perhaps. But it's a treasure box filled with my mother's letters to me written in her uneven hand, the large letters formed with love and longing for a daughter in another country.
"I'm longing for you
Can't wait until you're back home...
My heart is aching"
Everyday I want to get those letters out and feel her love soothe me, but it's hard... because I can't tell hey I love her too. It's hard to read again of the pain of her illness... the illness that robbed me of so much.
"I fell down again,
but it's not so bad this time...
Don't worry, my dear"
It is so hard... but they are there waiting for me, her words, her love, her faith comforting me in her absence now.
Thin blue almost transparent stationary that mirrored her transparent heart. She's always with me... no box can contain her. She's alive and well in my heart.
"My percious daughter,
days are long without you here,
but you're in my heart"
Eileen Manassian Ghali
My mom had me when she was 41. Yes, I was unplanned. I grew up knowing mom was sick. She had MS. My memories include seeing her with blood on her face and nightgown from a fall. Countless times I'd see choking on her food. Fortunately, the scars on her face from a gas explosion because she couldn't light the oven fast enough with a match weren't permanent. Always... to calm my panic in these situations she'd smile and say, "Don't worry, I'll alright!" One day, we were sitting on the couch and she looked at me and said, "You're afraid I'm going to die, aren't you." She held me in her arms as we both cried. I saw her slowly deteriorate and become wheelchair bound, unable to care for her basic needs. She was a woman of faith, loved by her students and the community. She wanted to die, praying that God would grant this request. She didn't want to be a burden. We lost her on March 19, 2000, but she lives on in my and in the lives of all who loved her. Resurrection day will be sweet.
Copyright ©
Eileen Manassian
|