With Bare Hands by Dr. Eftichia Kapardeli SignUp
Boloji.com
Boloji
Home Kabir Poetry Blogs BoloKids Writers Contribute Search Contact Site Map Advertise RSS Login Register
Boloji
Channels

In Focus

Analysis
Cartoons
Education
Environment
Going Inner
Opinion
Photo Essays

Columns

A Bystander's Diary
Business
My Word
PlainSpeak
Random Thoughts

Our Heritage

Architecture
Astrology
Ayurveda
Buddhism
Cinema
Culture
Dances
Festivals
Hinduism
History
People
Places
Sikhism
Spirituality
Vastu
Vithika

Society & Lifestyle

Family Matters
Health
Parenting
Perspective
Recipes
Society
Teens
Women

Creative Writings

Book Reviews
Ghalib's Corner
Humor
Individuality
Literary Shelf
Love Letters
Memoirs
Musings
Quotes
Ramblings
Stories
Travelogues
Workshop

Computing

CC++
Computing Articles
Flash
Internet Security
Java
Linux
Networking
Memoirs Share This Page
With Bare Hands
by Dr. Eftichia Kapardeli Bookmark and Share
 
It was a sweet spring afternoon. The previous day it rained incessantly from morning till night and the square was deserted and melancholy.
 
That night the weather changed and the sun in the morning loomed hot. 
 
Sunday saw him for the first time Square neighborhood. A young man around 26 with a slim look a little lost. His clothes are poor but clean. Sat alone and waited for who knows, what who knows, what I was seeing him. Every Sunday at the same time sitting in bench in the square. Homeless thought.
 
Sunday and pass in front of him. Am not looking and then sit beside him after the bench is empty. Looks at me and tries me smile ......
 
The face of the beautiful but pale. With persistence and query smile too ........
 
Offer him a little cake I have in my bag. Taking it with trembling hands crumbs fall to the ground and pigeons, residents of the square and those claiming flying beside us.  They climb on my feet in my hands and laugh spontaneously and try to kick. A strange attraction unites and dialogue between us begins.
 
Learning that his name is Matthew and is the second child of his mother who is ill. Father has died and a year before his brother left for abroad seeking better life in Greece since there was no work anymore.  He left for a better life and Matthew stayed here protector and guardian to his mother.
 
With the tenderness of his age turns from his jacket pocket a photograph. He shows me her mother. A beautiful woman in her fifties.
 
Dementia told my doctors told me. Dementia is empty ... forget the hours, the days every day loses track loses memories. Always tells me that he loves me but does not know me anymore. Doctor told me that there is no cure and requires care around the clock. Stop bit and continues .... is now 5 years
 
Yesterday was holding his own hand and stared at me with eyes fixedly Yesterday was embraced for a moment and then suddenly lost ..................
 
No face no face ... I return my tears, whispers.  
     
I wake up and sleep to think about ... I care what else to do ........ And my life has changed my life is changing ... but I do not care how .... Truth hurts not remember me anymore .........
 
Beside him a book half open with the pen ....... At the bottom on the cover read author Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Gives me and tells me to read the series has made with red pen.
 
"If I knew that today would be the last time I'll be watching you sleep, will I hug tightly and pray the Lord to be able to become the guardian of your soul. If I knew this would be the last time I'll be watching to get out of the door, to hug and're'd give a kiss and call you back to give you and others. I watered with my tears roses, to feel the pain of their thorns and the red kiss of their petals ... ".
 
As I read these wonderful words continues talking to me .......
 
So many times I visited the doctors and do not have to tell me anything ... Only these drugs are so expensive in Greece that all dissolve all scatter ...
 
I studied journalism and try to write my own articles to earn a little money but these are not arriving. A few days ago with expelled from the newspaper where I work. Unable to tolerate my absence the hours my mother watch. My last article is newspaper 'Word' entitled in Latin "non sibi" means ... not only for yourself, two days ago. We might be able to bring you a newspaper to read.
 
I give him another piece of cake but carefully folded in a handkerchief which he holds in his hands. Delights and tells me that this is a gift for the mother.
 
He turns slightly towards me ......... love a moment, a moment of love I miss my friendly whispers, a time for love to be able to sleep quietly near her.
 
How to embrace the warm sun abstain Sunday with bare hands!!
 
But now I gotta go, I'm afraid not to lose not leave home.
 
You know not ever lock the door, I will not ever do not want to pester people around me.
 
And all the people are so indifferent about me.
 
Thank you very much that we discussed. Everything is expensive as drugs needed my mother and I am in economic collapse ..... but those who have brought up our offer to our hearts. Words of wisdom from such a young man thinking ...........
 
Greet him and promised to help him.
 
The struggle in our daily lives not only with words but with deeds solidarity and humanity No compassion, no charity, but respectful with kindness selflessly sympathetic to rate this lad who gives only his own battle.
  
I saw him removed and I felt that I have a shared responsibility for all.
 
My job and my finances were not great and maybe I was lucky as the food business that worked was my grandfather's and although the odds of that time seemed to stand still for many years.
 
I promised to help him and I will.
 
In Greece that all sink let people stick let's stay in a relationship of honesty and trust to people who really need us, to people nowadays still do make sacrifices and acts of devotion deep love
 
I decided to go home. Entering my room right on the nightstand in a small frame that I had given him a good friend of mine read the words of the Apostle Paul
 
"Love does not enjoy on the injustice
It congratulates the truth
Always cover, believes all things, hopes, always perseveres
"
 
The next morning I contacted the Social Welfare trying to help the unknown friend. I explained in a few words the situation of my friend referred me and other services to people who can help immediately. A glimmer of hope for a little warmed my heart for Matthew
 
The fight is personal for each person individually, but when we know the pain we grow stronger. I knew you were in the same bench at the same time the "Monday" I sure will not forget our appointment.

21-Nov-2012
More by :  Dr. Eftichia Kapardeli
 
Views: 556
 
Top | Memoirs







    A Bystander's Diary     Analysis     Architecture     Astrology     Ayurveda     Book Reviews
    Buddhism     Business     Cartoons     CC++     Cinema     Computing Articles
    Culture     Dances     Education     Environment     Family Matters     Festivals
    Flash     Ghalib's Corner     Going Inner     Health     Hinduism     History
    Humor     Individuality     Internet Security     Java     Linux     Literary Shelf
    Love Letters     Memoirs     Musings     My Word     Networking     Opinion
    Parenting     People     Perspective     Photo Essays     Places     PlainSpeak
    Quotes     Ramblings     Random Thoughts     Recipes     Sikhism     Society
    Spirituality     Stories     Teens     Travelogues     Vastu     Vithika
    Women     Workshop
RSS Feed RSS Feed Home | Privacy Policy | Disclaimer | Site Map
No part of this Internet site may be reproduced without prior written permission of the copyright holder.
Developed and Programmed by ekant solutions