Love and Death

 

In a small house by the sea lived a sickly old woman, Lisja. She'd only been there for two months, but she'd already grown to love it. She was alone; her husband had died fifteen years ago. Apart from her loving son, she had no one. How much she owed him! Michael (for that was his name) visited her on Saturdays and Sundays, because during the week he studied or sold tiles. When she was with her mother, he read books and newspapers to her, cooked dinner, cleaned the house, and shared the latest gossip. They always had a pleasant time. Her son sometimes brought Lisja a small gift. Sometimes seashells from the sea, sometimes fruit from the city, sometimes boxes, scarves, and other trinkets that brought the old woman great joy. She loved him more than anything, and vice versa. She was never bored at home with him, and she owed him the house, too. A young man gave it to her when her doctor ordered her to spend time outdoors. Michael, out of concern for his mother, "transported" her from the polluted city to the seashore, which in summer resembles a silvery surface, shimmering in the sunlight and washing over soft, golden sand. In winter, the landscape resembles an icy land. The snow sparkles in the sunlight, and at night, the moon's gaze penetrates it. Michael, out of love for his mother, would do anything. He never let her overexert herself. Any money he earned from selling tiles or from a school scholarship, he spent on his mother's home, medicine for her, gifts, food, etc. And so the years of this impeccable love between the older woman and the young man passed. Until. One Sunday evening, Michael came to visit with a stony face. He crouched down next to his mother and looked into her deep, gray eyes.

"Mom, I won't beat around the bush. I'll be blunt. As you know, we live under martial law, and I'm already of age, so, as befits a man, I have to go to war and leave the village." However, my most faithful friend will take care of you, since he's not leaving because, as I told you, he was seriously injured. Please don't worry, it won't do you any good. I'll be back as soon as I can," he said behind a sad face, though he didn't really believe it.

Mrs. Lisja suddenly paled. She knew it would happen sooner or later, but she hadn't expected it to be so soon. She loved her son so much, and now she had to part with him. With tears in her eyes, she replied,

"This is the saddest news I've heard in my long life, but I must accept it with dignity and be proud of you.

" Michael hugged his mother and said a heartless "Goodbye" at the door. However, this expression proved to be just an unfulfilled wish. The man never saw his beloved mother again. Just three months after leaving the village, he was fatally shot. The old woman, having learned about this, simply lay down on the faded sofa and... never got up again...