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An Old Woman’s Blue Eyes
I remember when I met Nil’s great-grandmother a few years ago at an engagement party (Nil’s mother was celebrating her engagement to her fiance), I looked into that old woman’s blue eyes and she held my hand in both of her hands and chuckled. She looked so peaceful and there was something about her that had me fall in love with her. Both of Nil’s great-grandmothers sat next to each other on a sofa in that living room, but it was Nil’s paternal great-grandmother that I loved. That moment was short and no words were exchanged.
I then went on to talk to a whole bunch of people, mostly friends of Nil’s mother.
I asked Nil’s mother how her grandmother was a few months ago and I felt sad when she said that her grandmother is now buried in Trabzon, Turkey.
I felt a deep sadness that couldn’t be explained.
I’m actually really sad when I write this. Why? And what for? I only met that old woman once. We didn’t know each other’s languages. Why when I think of her now, I feel like crying?
I’m led to think that we could meet one person once and it could be just a few minutes and we could feel strongly for that person.
Maybe that old woman couldn’t see me clearly. Maybe she didn’t know whose hand she was holding. However, I couldn’t help but love her.
