Sign
I knew she was going to have her chemotherapy yet again in the last five years after her surgery. And again I did not find the courage to go see her. The conversations sounded bizarre on the phone, but they had told me that the terrible illness changed her appearance, lost her weight, that it was another Nadia that was hard to fit into the memories ... I was afraid there was not to be able to cover my anxiety, my regret, or I can tell her soothing words ...
In the overall ranking of the virtual list of friends, it was a bit off of my closest, but there were times when I knew it could give me the most practical advice, best guidance and easy strategy to overcome some problem.
He was an introvert type and did not communicate with many people. Most of her time spent in her studio where she had a constant exposure to her paintings, and when I was there I felt festive. She liked to paint with watercolors, and this gentle flow of colors - from sunny yellow to dark blue, from white to sea blue and transparent red, caused a bright emotion in me, turned into an experience.
From time to time he narrated the story of some painting to re-experience the tremors around the creative process, occasionally opening up the subject of world brush makers, quoting the wise thoughts of the great names in fine arts, telling stories from their personal lives.
Very often, loudly, he dreamed of a house in a romantic place, until one day he finally found her in a village on the steep slopes of the Balkan. He left the city and settled in it. The yard was flat, all year round covered with green grass. The flowers gleamed at the foot of the stone-walled wall, and over the great road, gate had spread its young branches.
A clear river rang out of the house, with huge walnut trees greening on its banks, and its rapid waters formed silver chains around the white rounded stones at the bottom. Do you look up - you will see the white-capped hat on the mountain and its green slopes ...
"This is the Paradise I will draw from home to the end!" Exclaimed Nader once, and indeed, her inspiration had no limits. Moreover, Miro, an incredibly talented poet with whom he was very attracted, lived with her. Perhaps this was due not only to their belonging to art but to their bohemian way of life.
They were an exceptional company over the long nights under the stars, in the green courtyard, under the steep cliffs of the mountain. Sometimes Nadia circled the pages of Miro's two thin poetry collections and recited against the background of the cricket songs, under the fiery flames of the arc - July or June, I do not remember exactly, maybe all summer, all that crazy time that suddenly changed his taste after the sudden death of Miroslav.
Once Nadya said,
- He went unexpectedly without saying goodbye, not to mention one more word than our last conversation about how and how much wood we should provide for the winter ... So long, I did not even dream about it, nor did I feel like a presence around me ... We never talked about the Beyond, nothing promised me, but I tell you - if I happen to go the same way - I'll give you a sign from the Other Dimension ...
We spoke the day before for the upcoming exhibition I could not go to because of the exceptional circumstances. I wanted to know even the smallest details because I had a relationship with Nadia, about her creativity, because I wanted her to understand how deeply I regret my absence from this triumph ...
Our conversation lasted for a long time, and I enjoyed the excitement that made her voice fresh, uplifted, smiling. There was no sign of despair, pessimism or doom ...
- I immediately got a disc with a video recording from the opening, most of the pictures were taken, there were four pieces, furor! - her words were ringing. "I'll give you the disc to look at everything, but not now. I'm going to have a chemotherapy scheduled tomorrow. I will not accept anyone until the end of the week ... even you! I felt her smile, and I promised not to worry her until Monday.
On Monday, late in the afternoon, I rang, I heard a signal "free," but no one picked up. I figured Nadeda probably rested after heavy therapy. She had told me that she had turned night into day and day at night because she slept when the feeling of fatigue and the need for sleep was insurmountable.
I waited for the end of the week and searched her again on the mobile on Saturday. I was automatically told that there was no subscriber with such a number. I conceded that it was in a place where there was no scope, and that was often the case, and later I recovered. The answer was the same and so - several times.
The unsuccessful attempt to get in touch with me made me look for two of her friends. One said that they had not talked for a long time, nor did they see her because she was outside the country, and the other without prelude told me: "Nadia has gone ...".
The strike was frontal, relentless, final.
I could not cry, nor break the fiery lump that burst into the solar plexus nor repel the wave of sorrow that came upon me ... It happened only later when my tears broke out. They were like two streams that probably washed away all the tensions that had accumulated in me during the time they were sick, carrying the faith in the good end of my girlfriend's illness and the regret of her plans for the future that would not have happened.
And just when I thought my sobs were out of control, the cell phone rang. The number and the name - Hope!
I looked at him and did not believe my eyes, but it was only a dozen seconds - I opened the line and heard my own voice, raised to the heavens: "Hope, are you?"
No one answered.
It has been months since. And in my mind, I did not have to delete this number.
Do you guess why ...
Much love - Krisii
source: http://www.highviewart.com
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