zaterdag, augustus 25, 2007

 

Suddenly. . .

sometimes, a sudden event, word, song, occurence or anything at all throws me like lightening to a place and event or period in time that I hadn't thought about for loooooonggg.....

a link to a song on a forum that wasn't meant to make me all sentimental because we were joking had me hold my horses and threw me in a mood that has taken hold of me.... I write about it and I am busy with it now.... after this posting I'm going to lock it away again. like pushing a button - my survival button.... so many things happened that can make me sad and angry at myself - but then I wouldn't be able to go on living anymore - not that I would kill myself of course, but the sadness would take over and prevent me from . . . thinking, acting and behaving normally.

the link underneath is of a very old dutch song, called smartlap - the title of the song is 'loon van de arbeid' - but I've never known that, it were a few words 'the chorus' that suddenly fought their way into my long-distance memory and made me meet......... my mother

who used to love 'smartlappen' - sentimental old dutch songs about 'life' and difficulties in life -

I still can hear her sing the words - and know and feel what she felt - and remember how I rebelled against it, because I didn't want to be a 'softy' like she was -in my eyes- that time.

Moeder niet huilen - Mom don't cry
het word beter misschien - it'll maybe get better one time
Moeder ik kan er je tranen niet zien - Mom I can't stand to see your tears
Kheb nooit geweten het doet me zon pijn - I never knew it hurts so much
het loon van der arbeid zo bitter kon zijn - the wage of work could be this bitter


I'd like to say publically on a blog: mom, I'm soooooooo sorry - and wish I could tell you in person.....

My mother saw her neighbors shot to dead by the nazis in front of her eyes in WWII, her brother decided to become a sailor and thus escape being put to work in Germany - but he never returned home, he was killed by the nazis as well.... it left my mother in a psychiatric hospital, she just couldn't cope with it........ she underwent electrical shock treatment (a huge shame in those days) and then, she met my father and she so much wanted a child.... It took them 3 years - and finally I came,

she used to tell me she was overhappy that she had a girl, because a girl would never leave home to go abroad.........

and then I went abroad... it was stronger than me,

Soon as I arrived in Israel I knew here I have to live. . .

and I never thought about her feelings, never - or only that every mother misses her children if they go abroad... I had NO idea about the emotional and physical devestation I caused her:

soon after I emigrated two of her sisters died and she had a mental breakdown
- she never recovered from.

Up until her death she had a sad life - she was a hypersensitive person - she couldn't, again, cope.....

A few days before her death she told me "it wasn't only you that caused this sweetie, you must not reproach yourself for that" - but I never had..... reproached myself for her fate..... and I told her simply "OK, I know" -

and today I heard, completely by accident this song - and I heard her sing it again and for the first time I really, really 'connect' and 'see' and by my God: I reproach myself, I accuse myself and I hope (and know, because she just was that kind of a non-rancuneus person) that she'll forgive me,

Mom, years afterwards I cannot stand to see your tears :(

Link to the song: click on the arrow, it's in Dutch...

Tse.



Comments:
I understand what you're saying, and I have to object to your guilt, if only because I'm in that same situation. I think I have the benefit of seeing my father always giving in to his mother's wishes and never making any of them happier. So I left my home when I wanted to, and when I grew tired of my new home in England I moved even further from my parents, to the US, and my mother complains, and I understand her and feel sorry she can't see her son (and I'm honored she still feels this way), but if I gave up on my own dreams I give up on my own life, and soon I become my father, spending the rest of my life trying to make his mother happy, never succeeding, maybe secretly or subconsciously hoping she'd be dead and he would finally be free.

So you can't feel bad, but even if you do, it's better to feel guilty than to feel regret and hatred for your mother for allowing her to dictate your life choices.
 
Hey Tsedek,
your text made me think of a part of Khalil Gibran's famous book, "The prophet"... It is about children, and maybe it can make you realise that what you did in your life, in the end, is only you following a natural and normal course... Here it is:


And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children."

And he said:

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts.

For they have their own thoughts.

You may house their bodies but not their souls,

For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.

For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.

The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;

For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
 
good point PITS ... i know it from the other side of the story :D :D
 
I know guys, thank you. I know. It has always been my opinion that a child has his own life to live and if fate carries him/her away that's sad for who's left behind, but "that's life". But, since my son has moved abroad I'm feeling it from the other side as well. And, I'd never say anything to him to make him feel guilty (my mother didn't do so either, she just fell ill and couldn't hide her sadness) - because I know he's doing the right think by living his life.

And still it's very difficult, no matter that it's right, it's unbelievably hard. And now I understand what my mom went through, because I'm going through it exactly the same. So, there it is I can feel guilty while knowing I did the right thing... It sounds odd - but it's true.

(orangeleb - I love Khalil Gibran, the words he's using are very moving, and that's only the translation - I wish I could read Arabic ;-)
 
i too know how you feel.. i left home as a kid.. once to live with my mum and once to cross an ocean to live with my dad and then to cross even further and live alone.. the last time i did it my mum sold her house a year later and followed me.. but she was still recovering from aweful illness..

sometimes we have to go very far to find that invisible door to our sense of home..

by following your own dreams you enrich those that care for you.. because they are nourished by your accomplishment.. i am sure deep inside she was proud of how strong her daughter was..
 
Tse,
Die Wörter über Ihre Mutter sehr rührend waren. Ich bin sicher, daß alle Ihre Leser geehrt werden, um die Gefühle zu zeugen, die Sie mit uns heute geteilt haben.

Bitte tadeln Sie sich nicht für Ihre Entscheidungen. Halten Sie im Verstand, daß alle Mütter eine ganz spezielle Fähigkeit haben: Verzeihen.
 
Das stimmt, Nizo ;-) Aber, das macht es nicht leichter...

I hope your mum is OK now, Lirun (I've seen her photo, she looks great!)

Still, I start to like the 'arab' conventional system more and more: the younger generation taking care of the older.. It really makes sense (when you're 'somewhat' older like I am, LOL)
 
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