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I nod and sit at his side, giving in to the sunrays. Occasionally he takes a deep breath, deeper than the rest, trying to soothe his nerves. Who knows what he’s going through, I wonder. He doesn’t look happy.
“Sam, I apologize, I hope I haven’t frightened you. Lately, I’ve been having these outbursts.”
“Who am I judge?” I reply, giving him a sour smile. “After all, we’ve all got baggage.”
His expression becomes sullen and serious; he seems to be stifling a scream within.
“Yes, you’re probably right,” he pants heavily.
“I’d be happy to lend an ear,” I offer with utter seriousness. “If you’d like, of course. I’m a good listener,” I encourage him.
“Has Michael told you anything about me?” He looks at me curiously.
“He told me that you’re one of the most important people in his life, and as far as he’s concerned, you’re his soulmate,” I answer softy.
“Sounds like Brokeback Mountain,” Avi chuckles. “Yes, he’s pretty important to me too,” his expression suddenly becomes glum.
“Usually, I don’t feel like sitting around and talking about myself. But this past year’s events have shaken me to my core.”
“What happened?” I look at him with inviting anticipation.
“My beloved Grandma Lola, who’s actually like a mother to me,” he clarifies, “was diagnosed with advanced Alzheimer’s.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I can sense the sadness spreading in the air.
“Her condition is deteriorating by the day,” he adds. “All that’s left from that glorious woman, who’s my everything, the most precious person in my life, is a shadow of a memory. On one hand, she looks exactly the same, but on the other, she’s unrecognizable. It’s as if there’s an invisible wall between us that I’m trying to break through; but I can’t.” Avi wipes a tear away.
“I’ve done everything I could to treat her. I’ve taken her to multiple treatments, medical trials, and we even flew to the States; but nothing. Nothing seems to help. Her mind grows foggier by the day. Each time I say goodbye, I know what I’m leaving behind, but I have no idea what I’ll find when I see her next. I’m dying to hug her and burst out in tears, embrace her, but I can’t. She’s so fragile. I’ve been witnessing her transform right before my eyes, regressing into her childhood, into her nightmares, her uncertainties, sadness and emptiness. She’s been trying to communicate her loneliness, and I’ve been trying to approach her. However, graceful as always and eyes open wide, she’s fading away.”
“It’s a wretched disease,” I wipe away a couple of my own tears. “Such a cruel disease, mostly for the person’s loves ones.”
He nods. “My grandmother is my whole world. She was like a mother to me ever since my father was murdered when I was nine.”
“Murdered?” A lump of sadness lodges in my throat.
He nods quietly. “After his death, my mother couldn’t function. She was completely withdrawn and pushed everyone away – especially me, because I’m the youngest of seven children. You see, before he passed away, I was the family’s cute and sweet baby. And, all of a sudden, I became nothing more than a nuisance, wandering around the house and bothering everyone in it. Caring for me was a task she couldn’t handle anymore”
“But how was your father killed? If you don’t mind telling me, of course,” I look at him as I brush off the tears that keep pouring out.
“Well, my father was a medical officer who joined the attack force on the border with Gaza. He was severely wounded from a shell that was thrown at him. He was evacuated by a military helicopter and passed away later on at the hospital.
“It’s hard to imagine how your grandmother coped with such a cruel and brutal loss.”
“Yes, he was her only son and she was completely heartbroken. But since I have always been her favorite grandson, after what happened I became her main reason to move on and live. She lost her entire family in the Holocaust, so losing her one and only son left her devastated. She held on to me with everything she had and wouldn’t let me go.
“What do you mean by ‘wouldn’t let you go’?”
“As I said earlier, my mother couldn’t bear taking care of anyone anymore. She didn’t have an inkling of patience. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, function as a mother. Her mental state kept worsening, as did ours. You know what it’s like,” he blurted. “The saying goes ‘one mother can raise ten children, but 10 children would not be able to take care of one mother’. The irony!” He emphasized the dissonance.
“You’ve been through so much...” I blow my nose. “I’m so sorry.”
He looks at me, then seems to sink even deeper into his sorrow.
“I pitied my mother. I couldn’t bear her sadness. I was torn, and eventually decided to choose what suited everyone best. I preferred to move in with my Grandma Lola on the pretext that she was lonely, that she needed me, and it would make things easier for everyone. And so, the years passes, and time did, too – too much time. The gap between my mother and me is just as it had always been.”
“But she must be grief-stricken over your grandmother too, isn’t she?” I look at him somberly.
“Frankly, I have no idea,” he shares his most sincere thoughts with me. “I’m sure it hurts her as much as it does all of us. But perhaps, deep down, she’s somewhat relieved, and she hopes that my grandmother’s death might bring us closer together again, force us to remedy our past mistakes.”
