You would all believe me, if I told you he is far more beautiful than this picture does him justice, wouldn’t you? Yes! This image is of my grandson’s. His unintended pose here is utmost precious to me because the shoulder on which he has fallen asleep like an angel of my childhood fantasies happens to be mine. I remember having frozen my daughter right on the spot with my smile of who knows how many thousands of volt. My shoulder has been in this position many times before – in fact, my photo here is an older one when my tiny love had just made it to his two months (he is three-and-a half months old in his photo here). With my lucky charm’s shapely head, chubby cheeks, button nose, mother’s mouth and heavenly breath for me to inhale and never let go from inside me. And, those tiny hands with their father’s fingers – just recently freed from their sharp-nail-repellent baby mittens (his grooming kit is very difficult for his mom to near him with…)! Closing and opening at his dreams’ will to let me know I am there with him. In flesh and blood.
Then, I get to go home. Alone. Days go by fast with demanding work. The nights should follow suit. For, a teacher’s duties multiply outside the classroom to occupy all evenings, weekends and holidays. I end up doing some more work. But, I get distracted (affordably so, of course) and have the urge to write. About many issues of and angles on our existences. The night when my poem below came to me was exceptionally intense in some personal longing and recollection of a recent loss (to life). I had already started mourning over my self without having exited my lifespan yet…On account of “things” not having been possible for me to materialize, nor to hope for, feeling out of time, and other similar harsh realizations. Being made foremost of emotions, my typing took me to an experience of angst. Not for myself, though, but rather only for the afterward. The ultimate innocence, a fully submissive display of trust, the purest and most unconditional love and eyeful of whole body excitement my grand baby was giving me as a priceless gift began to overwhelm me. It was, as if I had just realized what had happened: I, indeed, was the grandmother of a miracle baby boy. Moreover, with him becoming acutely aware of and visibly happy about the wordless interaction between us. Melancholy hit me. The outcome was the following short verse in my native tongue…(an English translation of it is right beneath the original):
eskimiş kalıbıma konup duran inanılmaz bir güzellik nefesinde
yol yorgunu soldakine en karşılıksız masum sevgi gözlerinde
hani cennetten derler ya, işte öylesine kökten gülüşlerinde
korkum sadece benden sonra göreceklerine
i am thinking of death
an indescribable beauty in his breath touching on and off my worn out frame
the most unconditional purest love in his eyes for the trek-weary one on my left
you know how they say: of heaven? such original depth in his smiles
my sole fear
what will he be dealt with
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I wish you all thoughts on and plans for life alone and look forward to your visit next Sunday!
14 responses to “existential crisis or incomparable bliss?”
although I don’t have children, I was really caught up with your descriptions of your grandson and how you felt… beautiful!
Your comment gives the value to my writing I hold so dear. I appreciate you taking the time to provide me with your precious thoughts. I greet you with gratitude!
“Un petit bijou de parole que décrit en sorte, le trésor de votre enfant. Bravo!” English translation…”A little jewel of words, that describes in sort, the treasure that be your child.” Of course your grandchild, as the prelude of your lovely poem indicates.
You have my enthusiastic thanks for your kind and immediate reply. My apology for not being as prompt. Once again, your words elevated my spirit to a higher level, just when I needed it to. I have the same wishes for your well-being.
Another jewel, my poet friend… un petit bijou de parole que décrit en sorte, le trésor de votre enfant. Bravo! JJ
My thanks from the depth, dear Jean-Jacques. For the part of your comment I did understand. Alas! During my doctoral studies, Turkish was enthusiastically accepted as meeting “the other language” requirement…on account of which I have never learned French…
I am not even married ( though I feel like a grand-parent already 😦 ), and I feel this irresistable urge to be around these babies. They are so…serene. Yes thats the word. Serene. Everything about them is against which purity is benchmarked. Little fingers… I have a few nephews myself, who I get to see couple of times a year. Better than drinks with college friends, or a date with women from my dreams. Anyday, that is.
I am so happy for you. Though I am begining to understand the kind of responsibility children are, there is nothing closer to life than a child.
Aw, Tatsat! (The frowning face will go upside down, I’m sure – if it hasn’t already…) Your wording about “these babies” is so much on the dot, I could not have chosen another word: “Serene”. Okay, maybe I could…purity, innocence at the core, unconditional joy (even if what they give us lasts only until we are away from them again…). Thank you from the heart for being “so happy” for me. And my hat’s off to you for the wisdom you have attained at such a young age already. Thank you also for taking the time to write such a precious comment. I hope all is well with you and will remain that way! ❤
Beautiful pause for reflection Hulya!
Thank you, Kathy, thank you wholeheartedly.
Precious grandbaby you have.
Didn’t see the English translation of your poem till after I posted. Wanted to stop back and say, I hope the melancholy has passed. ❤
How sweet and thoughtful of you! Yes, yes, the melancholy has passed. In Turkish, we have an expression, one that describes me to a T: I am shivering in my caring thoughts over him (well, mine is a free translation) but most of the time, that feeling elates me. Thank you again from the heart! ❤
Thank you from the heart, Paulette. I do. I really really do.