Weep Ye Not

‘I need to tell you something, sweetie.’

Granny’s voice sounds unusually serious. I look up from where I’m sitting on the floor surrounded by my favourite dolls. She remains settled in her chair, hands folded on her lap, the motionless bulk of her body like a statue against the light coming through the window behind her. What is it that she wants to tell me?

‘I’m going on a journey.’

‘A journey? Where?’ I feel excited. Travelling is fun!

She fixes her gaze somewhere above my head. Takes her time before responding:

‘Far. Very far.’

‘Cool! When are we leaving?’

I think about the upcoming adventure and bounce enthusiastically. I love trips!

She looks at me again.

‘You’re not going with me, darling.’

A sudden stab of anxiety.

‘But why? I’d like to go with you… Please!’

‘It’s not a journey I can take you on. I must go alone.’

This happened the night after the telegram on my desk. The telegram I found after coming home from school. I opened the door to my bedroom and there it was: a small piece of white against the emptiness of the wooden surface.

Granny talked to me again a few nights later.

‘You know I have to leave, darling.’

‘But Granny! I really want to go with you! Take me, please! Take me too!’

She sighs and shakes her head.

‘I can’t, sweetie.’

With so many things happening during the day, there was no time to think about Granny’s words. I still had to go to school, do homework, keep in mind all those little things that seemed so necessary every day. Mom wanted my help at home too. A few days could pass without me remembering. And then, I would be in her bedroom again.

I am sitting on the carpet with my doll while Granny walks about the room. Her slow, deliberate steps make the floor creak when she opens the wardrobe. The scent of lavender wafts through the air. She takes folded clothes from the shelf, walks back to the suitcase that lies open on her bed, arranges neat bundles inside. I try again.

‘Granny, please! Take me with you!’

A sad smile barely touches her lips. And I plead and plead, and plead.

It took many nights. The same scenario repeating itself again and again like a broken record. Granny stopped responding after a while. I begged and cried. Used every argument I could think of. She just looked at me sadly. Shaked her head, then stopped doing even that. Packed her suitcase in silence. But letting her leave me behind was unthinkable.

I lived an ordinary life during the day. At night, I tried to reason with Granny.

We stand on the roadside in front of our house. A chilly, gloomy morning dilutes colours and muffles sounds. The squatty lump of our house sits behind our backs, the forest looms dark and tall in front of us. Granny’s grey coat matches the clouds high above our heads. The tops of poplar trees on both sides of the road sway in the gentle breeze that doesn’t reach the ground.

I grab her hand as she turns east and starts walking down the empty road. I know the route, I take it every day to get to school. We used to walk there together when I was younger and couldn’t walk to school on my own. We always joked and laughed all the way. This time, Granny stays silent. The small brown suitcase she holds sways to the rhythm of our steps. Her other hand, the one I’m holding, feels limp. Slips away from my grasp.

‘Granny, wait!’

She walks at a steady, unhurried pace. But I have to run to keep up.

One day I told Mom about Granny’s brown suitcase and Mom’s face lit up.

‘Oh, I remember that suitcase! She had it when we were travelling back home from Germany after the war ended. A cheap cardboard suitcase painted dark brown. It contained everything we had. The clothes inside would get soggy when it rained.’

I also told her about the grey checkered coat with a fur collar, snug on Granny’s slim body. Mom nodded.

‘Yes, she had that coat when I was a child. It was her favourite. She wore it for many years! Then moths got to it and she had to throw it away. How do you even know about it? Have you seen a photograph?’

I tried to explain but my baby brother started wailing and Mom didn’t have time to listen.

Another night. We walk along the roadside again. The asphalt stretches far in front of us. Tall, slim poplars line both sides of the empty road. Their leaves shimmer with pale green and silver. I can see Granny in front of me in her grey coat, the brown suitcase swaying in her right hand. I need to hurry but my legs feel heavy. I will them to move faster. I’m so tired!

‘Granny! Wait for me!’

She pays no attention. Tears on my cheeks sting in the chilly air. There is no time to brush them away. Panic squeezes my chest and stomach with an icy fist.

‘Granny, wait!’

The poplars shimmer. The forest looms. On my right, familiar houses stay behind. The same houses I pass on my way to school. Granny walks steadily on while I run after her. Her silhouette gets smaller and smaller in the distance.

Night after night after night, I chased her along the same stretch of the road. Each time, I could see her further and further in front of me. Weeks turned into months. I still had to go to school, do my homework, help at home... So many chores demanded my attention. I still had parents to talk to, friends to play with. But we never talked about the telegram. The one I found on my desk. The one I touched gently to raise it closer to my eyes and look at the sender’s address. The hospital. Then I read: The patient passed away at…. Saw Granny’s name.

One night many months later, I stop running and look at the road in front of me. My breath comes in rapid, heavy gulps after the long run. The poplars shimmer and thin wisps of mist float close to the ground. I turn right and see the familiar driveway. After all this effort, our house sits there as if I didn’t move an inch. I look at the road again. Its ribbon stretches far to the east, getting narrower and narrower in the distance. I stand alone. There is no one in sight.

(1111 words)