That Wednesday started like any other. After dropping Una off at school, Nestor and I enjoyed our quiet morning and a part of it is always skyping with my parents. As they were not online I gave them a call and it turned out that they were having some issues with their computer. My dad told me that he was going to have it sorted out and asked if we could skype later in the day. I replied that this would be really difficult as I needed to leave shortly to buy a birthday gift, then fetch Una and her friend from school for a playdate, followed by dinner and in the evening I had a course to attend. I knew that they skype to talk to me but most of all to see their grandchildren but since they had just returned home two days earlier from visiting us I thought that it was not that urgent that we talked that day given my ever so packed agenda. I suggested that we talk tomorrow. He agreed, or at least that is what I heard.
My dad passed away the next morning. He died in his sleep, quietly and peacefully, the way he lived.
I know that we have a lot to be grateful for. The happy childhood, the memories, the laughter. The five years we got with him after his massive heart attack when the doctors thought he would not make it. As my sister said, he got to be there for all of our biggest joys. He saw us both graduate from university, he sent his youngest daughter off to pursue her dream and he witnessed her complete it. He walked us to the church door on our wedding days, he met all his four grandchildren and got to shower them with love, sing to them and carry them to sleep when they were newborns, to create stories in which they were the main characters, to take them to the forests and teach them about trees and grass, to build and carve wooden doll cradles for his granddaughters. I know that we should be grateful that he spent his last days with those he loved the most. He got to come and spend a week with his only youngest granddaughter on her autumn school holiday, he got to spend the afternoon alone with his only youngest grandson while the rest of us went shopping. We should be grateful that he got to come back home, spend a day in their summer house to prepare it for the winter, take his only eldest daughter to her karate training and his only eldest grandson to his music lesson. That he got to draw his last breath in his home, in his bed, next to his wife. That he left peacefully and was not in any pain.
I hope that some day I will be able to feel this gratitude. I hope that some day I will be able to tell stories about him to my children and celebrate all that he was. All I have now is the feeling that I can’t breathe and the bottomless grief of losing my father.
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Ta sreda je pocela kao i svaka druga. Odveli smo Unu u skolu i Nestor i ja smo se vratili da provedemo mirno jutro do njenog povratka. Svake srede ujutro mi se cujemo sa bakom i dekom preko skype-a. Posto nisu bili online, pozvala sam ih telefonom i tata mi je rekao da imaju problema sa kompjuterom i ne mogu da pokrenu skype. Rekao mi je da ce da odnese kompjuter u servis i da se cujemo kasnije u toku dana. Ja sam rekla da cu biti u guzvi, da treba da odem da kupim poklon za rodjendan, pa da pokupimo Unu i njenu drugaricu iz skole da se igraju kod nas, pa da pravim veceru, pa da uvece idem na kurs. I posto znam da oni najvise zovu da vide Unu i Nestora a kako su se tek pre dva dana vratili od nas nije mi se cinilo da u toj mojoj guzvi mora da se cujemo bas tog dana. Predlozila da se cujemo sutra. Tata se slozio, ili sam ja bar tako cula.
Sledeceg jutra, tata nas je zauvek napustio. Umro je u snu, mirno i tiho, kako je i ziveo.
Znam da treba da budemo zahvalni za mnogo toga. Za srecno detinjstvo, secanja, smeh. Za pet godina koje smo dobili sa njim posle prvog udara na njegovo srce kad su doktori spustali pogled. I kao sto kaze moja sestra, doziveo je sve nase najvece radosti. Video je da obe diplomiramo, da posalje najmladju cerku u svet da juri svoje snove i da prisustvuje kad se ispune, da nas izvede na dan nasih vencanja. Doziveo je da upozna svo cetvoro unucadi i da ih obaspe ljubavlju, da im peva uspavanke kao novorodjencadi, da izmislja price za njih u kojima su bas oni glavni protagonisti, da ih vodi u sume i da ih uci o drvecu i travi, da pravi drvene krevece za lutke za svoje unuke. Znam da treba da budemo zahvalni da je svoje poslednje dane proveo sa nama koje najvise voli, da je uspeo da dodje kod nas i provede nedelju dana sa svojom jedinom najmladjom unukom za vreme njenog skolskog raspusta, da provede celo popodne sam sa jedinim najmladjim unukom dok smo se mi ostali rasuli kojekuda. Da se vratio kuci, proveo dan u vikendici i pripremio je za zimu, da je odveo svoju jedinu najstariju unuku na karate i jedinog najstarijeg unuka na casove harmonike. Da je poslednji put udahnuo u svojoj kuci, u svom krevetu, pored svoje zene. Da nije bolovao i da je otisao mirno.
I nadam se da cu jednog dana moci da osetim svu tu zahvalnost. Da cu moci da pricam o njemu mojoj deci sa lepim uspomenama i da ga se secamo onakvog kakav je bio. Za sada jedino sto osecam je da ne mogu da disem i bol bez dna.
Three words for everything 