The Sign I Ignored

“I never imagined I'd be here. For most of my life, I believed I was an atheist. But things have changed. Now, Grandpa, I ask for your help. I know you can hear me and that you always looked after us—your grandchildren—in life and now from heaven, just as you took care of Mom and Auntie. It's strange to consider myself an atheist and yet, deep down, still believe there is heaven. Still, I'm sure you are there. And here I am, again in a church, which I started to visit a lot in the past few months.”

“Everything is in my hands, this situation also. Yet please, if you can, send me something to give me the courage to do the right thing—a sign, perhaps. Or maybe you sent it yesterday. No need to tell you; you must have seen what happened. He got drunk again and got stoned.”

Even thinking about it makes my body tremble, as if last night’s darkness is returning. The fear rises, threatening to overwhelm me, but once inside the church, I feel a sense of safety. Moving from fear to calm, I realize the darkness follows me everywhere—my breaths are shallow with anxiety—yet here, a fragile peace settles.

“He called me annoying, said he doesn’t want me, and claims he isn’t attracted to me. He said he only started seeing me because his sister liked me. Yet I saw his interest: he flirted, called when drunk, texted when sober, kissed me first, and invited me to watch movies. I only responded to his initiatives. Yesterday, though, he told me he loves me like a sister. I can only talk to you, Grandpa. Is it me? My brain says it will pass, but my heart won’t let me breathe. He said he wants it to be over, but we just moved in 1.5 months ago. Maybe it’s a rough patch, or maybe not, but where do I go? I put all my money into this apartment, even more than him—he couldn’t afford it then.”

“When we moved from Zakopane to Krakow, I asked Karolina to help us. She brought all the stuff by car. He met us in Krakow. He was so happy to see me after a week apart that he kissed and hugged me in front of Karolina, which he hadn’t done before. He didn’t usually show his feelings in public, and he was sober. A few minutes later, Karolina messaged to say she hadn’t seen him like this before—he was really in love with me. She’s known him for longer. Or was all that fiction from his side? You could see it, Grandpa. From above, you see through people's hearts. Please, show me a sign. What’s real, what’s not?”

I didn’t hear an answer from my grandfather, but I hold onto hope that he won’t leave me alone in this. Stepping out of the church, my safe haven, waves of despair and loneliness weighed down my heart, yet underneath, a faint emptiness dulled my will to keep going.

That evening, he apologized. He said he didn’t mean to make me cry. That’s what he remembered: I locked myself in the bathtub and wept. I remained there until morning, falling asleep on the cold tiles. I dreaded leaving the bathroom, knowing he'd start to shout again, his harsh worlds aimed straight at my heart. The door alone shielded me; words shattered against it, pieces scattering onto the floor. In the morning, I found real glass fragments everywhere—our studio apartment offered no escape. I doubt he remembers the whole night in detail. Given how much he drank, I was genuinely surprised he made it to work. He sounded sincere, but I was furious and wounded.

“Do you remember what you said yesterday? Do you remember that you love me as a sister?” I saw surprise in his eyes. The cat was out of the bag. I don’t think he meant to say it out loud—he was hiding this.

Moments ago, I fully accepted this relationship had failed. Now, hearing his voice, feeling his presence, my heart constricts again. Just before, I felt strong. Now I’m swept away by memories, and my dignity feels drowned.

“I wanted to speak with you. I would rather say it than regret all my life that I didn’t share what is in my heart! Those words didn’t go easily through my throat; they felt like they kept getting stuck. I need to push each to say it out loud.

“Maybe it's just a period like this, maybe we're just getting used to living together. I do have feelings for you; if you say you don’t, then we will split. But if you still feel something, let's start from the beginning and forget yesterday. Let's give another chance?” Relief washed over me for a moment, quickly followed by guilt. I wondered if I had postponed the inevitable or deepened my confusion. My emotions swung between hope and self-doubt. Or did I make it even worse for me?

He agreed that we need time. A second chance began. From my side, I didn’t realize that my grandfather had already given me a sign.

A week passed slowly. I felt guilty for asking for another chance. One night, I dreamed of Grandpa and my beloved in the summer kitchen at home. Others were there, but only we saw Grandpa, who spoke with him. Maybe it’s a sign things will improve—why else would Grandpa speak to him?

A month went by. When I was up in a hotel for a week, I missed him terribly. When I was down in a city with him, I felt love, my love for him. But still couldn’t understand his love for me. He smiled and was always happy seeing me like a dog when his honor returned after a long day at work. One time, even when my managers offered me a few extra days, he asked me to refuse the offer and come home sooner because he missed me. At 7 pm on Thursday evening, I finished my shift, and all the employees were packing to go down from the mountain. In summer, the road takes 15-20 minutes; in winter, 40-50 minutes due to snow and ice. From parking, we went with Mariolka by car, usually in 1 hour, and I'm home. He called me 37 times that evening. I’m not exaggerating it. 37 times. He sounded extremely drunk. But still, it made me happy thinking that what a drunk person has on a tongue and in actions, a sober person has in a thought. It really means that he missed me. Why would he do so, even drunk? It made me happy. Especially that when I arrived, he was not actually that drunk, as I could tell by the look he had had a few beers. It added more persuasiveness to the fact that he loves me. He just grew up in a different family; his father was not taking care of them. Stepmothers were changing one after another after their mom died. He didn’t know the family’s warmth. But we can change it! In our family, he and I can create a different family. Loving and patient, without aggression. It might take some time. But nothing is impossible for two people wanting the same thing.

Another month went by. This evening, he didn’t come home right after work, like the past two weeks. He said he was at Kamil’s, playing a game. Games mattered to him—first weed, then beer, then games. I don’t know if I’m in his top five priorities. I came from the Mountain Hotel and wanted to spend our time together before I leave in two days. He is still avoiding intimacy. I felt exposed, so I started changing in the bathroom. Maybe my body disgusts him; I don’t want it to get worse. I kept messaging him. He said he’d come in 15 minutes, but no one came in for 2 hours. My worry shifted to suspicion—maybe he’s with someone else. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t sleep with me and won’t break up. Maybe he pities me. I cannot wait any longer. I will go to a friend’s place.

It was mid-spring. Days warmed, but nights stayed cold. I knew Kamil’s building, but not his apartment. My mind clouded with confusion. Why am I debasing myself? Why this humiliation? But it was too late for questions. I craved the truth. I decided to call him repeatedly until he came down. Rage and resentment surged; my desperation spiraled, emotions colliding. I lost control, becoming frantic, unmoored.

That evening didn’t have a happy ending. Even though he was not cheating on me. He became furious that I interrupted his game. As usual, our apartment turned into a scene of crying and shouting. That evening, the neighbors couldn't tolerate it anymore. They called the police. He opened the door after a few knocks. I was not able to even sit in a corner of the kitchen to hide from the policeman's vision; they saw me sitting on a bed with a full red face after crying and slaps. The main policeman didn’t want to speak with him; the policeman talked to me:

- “Miss, are you okay?”

- “Everything is okay, everything is okay.”

- “If you have been hurt and abused, you need to say!”

- “Everything is okay, everything is okay.'

He continued, after a moment:

- “Your neighbors complained about the noises and screams. If you cannot confirm that you need help, we cannot help you miss.”

My partner intervened in the bush talk: “She is okay, she doesn't need help. We are okay. Just a small argument.”

- “I'm not speaking to you!” Policemen answered roughly. “Are you sure you're okay, miss?”

- “Everything is okay, everything is okay, everything is okay.” I couldn't say anything else. I froze. I saw anger in my boyfriend’s eyes and just wanted it to be over.

With all sadness, the policeman finished: “Then keep it down, it's 3 am. Otherwise, we can take you to the police station for the night.”

Door closed. But the nightmare was not over. He explained to me how this situation could reflect on him: “Do you want them to arrest me? Do you know that they can throw me out of this country because of this? Do you want it? Was it all your target?” I didn’t, I didn’t want anything like that, I didn’t want. My face got burned more all of a sudden again. I didn’t understand what happened at first, but I opened my eyes, and I was on the floor. I touched my face, and everything was hot and wet. My hand was covered in blood. I cannot do anything. I'm unprotected. I moved to the bed and huddled in a corner. If he will kill me, let it be. I cannot move anymore. I switched.

The smell of frankincense, incense, and wax candles brought me back to today.

“You showed me a sign a long time back. Grandma always taught that if you see your dead ancestors in a dream, it's a good sign until the moment they speak to you. I understood now your sign from above. You spoke with us to show where this relationship will take me, to the place where you are now. I was blinded by the desire to make this relationship work, to be loved, and to have my own family. With the desire to save a person who didn’t want to be saved. I need to take care of myself. Last time, I only made it worse, but I learned my lesson. Even if now I need to go back there, this time I will make the right choice, I will make it better!”