Words have been failing me. Perhaps it is because there is power and life in words, and that this power deserted me. Perhaps. I think that words are failing when we truly understand the deep meaning of words like “love”, “death”, “happiness” and “faith”.

I envy those who believe in scriptures, not because these are scriptures, but because they believe in the basic meaning of the words themselves. Religious faith should always be considered from the perspective of the child.

Down, down where Moon is small

So am I supposed to be an adult, grown up and responsible, dependable and strong, understanding and complete. Both direction provider and sheltering power. It is a beautiful thing to have walls to break through as manual effort is bringing peace to the mind and body alike.

Awful is the time when one discovers the true meaning of words, and acts, which have been performed with the innocent grace of the child, and slowly eroded into habits, and comfort of a shared life together.

Standing there would challenge the tranquil power of Sisyphus. Because the way down into the dark valley, with the hope of that ridge, of that dawn to come, after the darkest hours, all this journey is a journey of grief, as the loved one has departed for ever, and that all colors have changed.

The death of my mother has tectonic power, the kind of which is changing the course of rivers, and altering the shapes of coasts. Oh, no doubt, the world remains unchanged, and yet, one voice has left the choir, and all the melody is losing its harmony.

Grief.

When silence becomes deafening.

When one does welcome the little death of sleep, and a bed is an invitation to blissful forgetfulness.

Oh, there are ways out, and words of power to summon light and hope, with the help of modern magic of medications. To the one who is welcoming grief, it is said that he has to live for himself, because the departed can take care of herself, now.

The only thought, which prevented me from joining that blissful forgetfulness, is one of absolute belief in the temporary life we have, and that ultimately we will meet again the loved ones, as there is, I am sure of it, survival of the soul.

So that death is transformation, it is the final period to the sentence of a life. It is revelation, and that revelation is terrible.

Death of a loved one is terrible, because it is both leaving us broken, lost and yet with that message of a soul, of a life, to carry on, and to honor to the end of our own presence upon this earth.

So that it is terrible to hate grief, which is natural, and hate it because it does not help to bring that message to light. Grief is binding our hands, and making us silent, as if one word could betray the sublime content of all our thoughts.

And this silence is evil, as it goes again the light the departed one left, because life is energy, and nothing disappears, only transmutes.

So why is my heart full of doubt, and darkness filling my mind? Why are words failing me and hurting the beloved one, who is trying to save me from the fall into the abyss?

Anger. I really thought I would save her, in spite of herself, and every minute I spent with her, I was not really there, I pretended to, but my thoughts were with my sweet beloved, or taken by dark calculations of time and revenue.

Oh, flow the tears, and tears there were. When I fought with my mother whole nights as she was tearing away tubes and perfusions. As she asked me to bring her home, as she was dying, literally. And seconds stretched into minutes, hours went by, as I laid on a chair, besides her, hopelessly despaired.

The last words she said are burning my soul. “Please, don’t go away!” And I went, as I promised to be back before night, and at home stumbled to bed. As I returned, it was dawn, and she was in coma.

And as I am writing those lines, I remember that the only one, who really cared and saved me from killing myself, was Belka of the alluring voice, a marvelous young woman I love, and who sacrificed her own sanity to the rescue of me.

So that in the darkest hour, there is that light, and it is the light of love and hope. Giving meaning to everything. Marvelous recapitulation. There are angels upon this earth.

Happiness is the reward of engagement. Love is an absolute, without which there is no meaning or virtue. Without love nothing can be achieved.

As a lover, I can only tell you this. Take your time. I waited 40 years to sleep with a woman I truly loved, and it was like I had not waited at all. One moment of happiness does erase the memory of years of unhappiness.

As a son I regret to have failed to understand the true meaning of love and sacrifice, which is to think first and for all of the loved one. Alas, my mother will never see her grandchildren, and I know I hurt her so deeply, as I have been violent and disrespectful to her.

I am walking now in darkness, but there is another dawn coming. I hope I still can make it in time, and bright to light that heavy secret I have in my heart. I really want to live to give back what I received, lest the message is lost.