Finally back to Canada, with the entire family. When we leave a place, we never really leave
it completely; we just grab some parts of it and take it with us everywhere,
then add some parts to it over time. We collect fragments of life through our journey
across borders and lifestyles. Sometimes we let go of some parts, we hold on
desperately to others. We rarely let go completely. So each return starts with
a feeling of unease.
On the 4
th morning after my arrival to Montreal, Mima
passed away. The nurse at the elderly home said it was a beautiful death. I am
not sure what that meant. Sometimes people need to say those things to comfort
the family. I guess she meant that she died peacefully in her sleep without
bothering anyone. I am happy for her, since she was looking forward to this
day, especially after the death of her husband, my grandfather over 15 years
ago. She never managed to find a meaning to her life after that. She was one of
those women who devoted all their life to their family. She opened her first
bank account at 70, after my grandfather’s death, to receive her pension. I
don’t remember her having any kind of hobby or interest in life other than what
was going on in the kitchen and in the house. Dado (my grandfather) used to
take her everywhere, entertain her and decide for her well-being. When he died,
her life collapsed. She relied heavily on my mom afterwards, but it wasn’t the
same. After 50 years with my grandfather she never thought that she’d one day
be left alone to manage her own life.
