İyi anne yoktur

 

Mom, I Saw It All

My mom had just given birth. I had a new sibling. I was now a big brother. Even though I barely remember, there are things I still can’t forget, even at 25.

As soon as mom came back from the hospital, she put the baby in the cradle and hugged me. She said, “Our routine is disrupted now, but we will get through these days. I love you so much.”

The baby cried a lot; mom couldn’t sleep at night. The lively mom who used to start every day with songs had become a tired, irritable woman. During the day, I witnessed her crying and having trouble breathing. I always wondered, “Is she crying because she had the baby?”

She always hurried while preparing breakfast or cooking.

My dad was a man who never withheld his affection, but not towards mom. He would not like the food she cooked, say “I’m tired from work, make me some tea,” then sit in front of the TV. Sometimes he played with me, or he was busy with his phone. When mom opened the door for him, she would ask, “Welcome home, how was your day?” He would just say “It was okay” and move on. Mom’s face would fall with sadness. Now I understand, all he wanted was for her to ask, “How are you?”

Mom was very tired. Otherwise, my dad would tell everyone how much she loved her home and children. “These days will pass, everything will get better,” mom always said.

Sometimes dad was very upset; his work wasn’t going well. Mom would say, “It will pass, I believe in you. I cooked your favorite meal, I’ll make tea too,” and always supported him.

I knew dad loved mom very much. Mom was someone who believed with love that everything could change. She raised me with love. But sometimes she was so worn out that she would suddenly burst into tears after a fit of anger. The baby was crying; she would rush around burning food, running, asking for dad’s help. But she never got any sleep.

One day, mom couldn’t finish cooking. She told dad, “I’m not feeling well today, I feel very lonely.” Dad shrugged me off and scolded mom as if he didn’t believe her. But mom was sinking into depression.

One day mom asked dad, “I washed the laundry but couldn’t hang it out to dry, can you hang it in the yard?” Dad hung it and said, “I’m warning you, it’s your job, don’t pile up laundry again.” Mom said, “I forget.”

One day I looked at photos from a picnic mom went on with a friend’s family and I saw my eyes fill with tears. Mom wanted this too, she told dad, “I’m so depressed, let’s go out.” Dad replied, “I have to work, who will pay the rent?” and dismissed it. “I miss dressing up and going out like before,” she said quietly. Dad didn’t answer.

Guests had come over. Dad had plans with his friend. He told his friend, “Let’s go there and eat afterwards.” Mom excitedly said, “We’ll come too, eating out will be good for me.” Dad frowned and said, “Kids won’t stop, stay home.” He took his friend and his wife and left. Mom hugged me and cried like a child.

The next day, mom tried to keep going with her fragile heart. She asked dad, “Can you hang the laundry? The baby won’t stop crying.” Dad said, “I don’t care.” Mom screamed at him with a cry, “Enough! I’m so tired, don’t you understand?” Dad angrily started insulting mom. He said everything cruel he could think of to hurt her pride. As mom cried, dad dismissed her feelings and tried to prove he was right. If mom yelled, she was punished. But if dad yelled, it was justified.

He called her an “ugly-faced woman.” Mom lost control, grabbed his chin, and shouted, “Look at my face! Look! Am I ugly?” Dad slapped her and beat her.

Mom screamed, cried, begged, hugged me but didn’t know what to do.

She had scratches on her chin and bruises on her cheek for days. She served dad food and tea, while sharing her sadness. Dad would say, “You provoked it, you did this.”

One day dad told mom to make tea. Mom said, “I won’t. You hit me and think you have the right, so I won’t serve you.” Dad beat mom again.

I can never forget those moments. Dad would beat mom, then come to me and say, “Don’t be afraid, your mom is crazy.” This made him feel better. It had started to become normal.

One night, mom breastfed the baby. She hugged me, kissed and smelled me, then left the house in the middle of the night. Dad didn’t care and kept playing with me. While I waited for mom to come back, she never did.

The next morning, we learned she had thrown herself in front of a train at a station, her body shattered beyond recognition.

Mom was gone. She only had a grave. Dad raised us alone but was always lonely. Always silent.

Now he sits alone, looking at mom’s grave, letting tears fall without wiping them. He hums the songs mom used to sing around the house. He looks at her photo and sighs. Dad was truly alone now.

This story is dedicated to women trying to exist within their loneliness.