Forget me not! (1)
“Oh dear! They cry over us for a day or two, then they just forget all about it!”
These were the very words that gloomily painted my whole week. I was very concerned about the tone in which my grandmother uttered them, with no introductions. However, I thought I guessed what my grandmother’s thoughts were, given that we were walking by the cemetry next to the ancient Medina’s huge walls.
Few years ago, my grandmother would wake me up early each Friday morning, and we would go to the cemetry to pay a visit to her aunt’s tomb. We would read some verses from the Quran for her, clean the tomb, water it, pluck whatever weeds had grown on it and leave in the safe knowledge that she was there, feeling our presence. But then, we stopped doing this years ago, what with me moving back to live at my parents’ and the new preoccupations each one of us had.
So now, my thoughts were that my grandmother was feeling somewhat guilty towards the fact that we stopped visiting, maybe thinking that after some time, she- too- will be gone, and her remembrence would depend only on how emotionally generous the people she left behind are.
My other thought was that, maybe, my grandmother was, yet another time, stupefied at the giant walls; those walls that were burdened with all the weight of ancient History, and constantly reminding people of a certain era of time, of certain personalities. The thing which does not apply to my grandmother’s case; she built no great walls, nor did she discover another continent!
I don’t know for sure but I was literally shocked! Why was my grandmother talking that way? It was as if she was counting herself among the dead, already! Was she haunted by the shades of oblivion?
(to be continued)