Mama! Our beloved mama, how many beautiful sounds in this simple word”mama”! How these sounds caress you, wrap you up in warmth, tenderness and happiness.
This is ” A Letter to Mother” by Sergey Esenin performed by one Russian artist. Listen to this video:“You are still alive, my old little lady”
“Are you still alive, my little old lady?”
“So am I, your big, grown-up son.
Hi to you, and your warm window, maybe,
With yet streaming, incomparable light-fun”.(Translated from Russian into English by VFP).
Hustle-bustling around on our life’s roads, we are passing by our mothers’ windows< no time to pay a visit to her, the only one on this earth, just looking at her window, noticing the light in her window, keeping in mind that she is still alive, and your heart is warming up with love, and ypu feel as if enhance some more energy, and joy and confidence on your own ways.
mama! It’s 25 years already since you are not with me. I remember your eyes, blue-gray, deeply set, penetrating into my soul. We were three children in the family, and she dedicated herself to all of us, and to each of us individually.
To the left her passport photo enlarged with candles lit up to commemorate her to-day.
There are no boundaries to the dedication of a regular Russian woman to the family. It aws dedication for life, up to the end, up to the last breath of her life.
I remember her standing with an umbrella and my raincoat at the entrance of Bryansk school #4 where I started my teacher’s career. The classes lasted until very late. The pouring rain was outside< no cars were in somebody’s possession at those times. The students lived near the school and were quick on foot. Only staff was still awaiting the end of the rain: nobody expected bad weather. And all of a sudden my mother showed up with the help from the rain. all of my colleagues envied me. “What a Mom you have, such a helpful person!” they said. This is a photo expose “Rain, rain, rain” dedicated to my Mom.
I was proud of mt mother that day, and all the following ones to come.
Her last day I will never forget, either, the day of the thirteenth of December of 1985.
I was teaching the English course at the plant after work for those who were planning to go abroad for a business trip. It was the beginning of the lesson. As usual, I started to put down the date on the blackboard and then the topic of the presentation.
At that same moment I felt as if something blocked my mind: I could not write nor think clearly. I looked at the class in despair and canceled the session. I explained to the people sitting in surprise that we will meet each other next time, but I am not sure when and that I will be keeping in touch with everybody later.
I was in a hurry to get home. No one called me, nobody informed me about my home situation where my Mom stayed with me for the last months after Dad’s death.
My intuition led me and my inner voice and subconscious feeling told me: “Go home, go home, something bad happened there” , kept knocking and knocking into my temples.
When I arrived home, my premonition was right. I saw my sister and daughter in tears. “Our Mama died” they said in chorus. I was already wound up. “What were her last words?” I asked.
“Where is Gennady? I am waiting for him…” Mama whispered/ Her eyes were chasing every movement of the living people who were present in the room, and they closed for good.
Mama, our dear beloved Mother, we remember you, your skillful, rough hands, swollen on veins, making food for us and for our cow Subbotka by name. The two big pots used to stand together side by side on the das stove, ready to be empty. The animals were always preferred by her in the first turn. We were adults, could help ourselves, and animals like little babies needed her attention first. Subbotka was her favorite until Khrushchev’s by-law was published; city people were no longer allowed to have cows in their households”. Time dated late 1950th.
Life’s stream had been passing so fast but unless we are still alive, the memory of Mama remains for ever with us. Let us light the candle for her.