З життя
Самотня старість матері чотирьох дітей
Матір чотирьох дітей залишилася на старість зовсім сама
Материнство — найбільший дар, але й найважча дорога. Коли ми стаємо матерями, віддаємо себе цілком: здоров’я, час, мрії, молодість… Та хто ж знає, як діти віддячать нам колись? Чи будуть поруч, коли прийде старость? Чи обіймуть турботою, коли сили покидатимуть? Чи залишать із самими спогадами, світлинами та болями, що ніякі ліки не зможуть заспокоїти.
Ганна Іванівна Коваленко все життя крутилася, як білка в колесі. Працьовита, мовчазна, вона сама виростила чотирьох дітей після того, як чоловік загинув у автокатастрофі. Сталось це, коли молодшій ледень виповнився рік. З того часу жоден чоловік не переступив її поріг. Не тому, що не кликали — а серце було зайняте дітьми. Вони стали її сенсом.
Ганна працювала без вихідних, бралася за будь-яку роботу: мила підлоги у садочку, торгувала на ринку, в’язала на замовлення. Усе заради дітей. Собі не дозволяла нічого зайвого — носила одні й ті ж чоботи зиму за зимою, про манікюр чи театри й не згадувала. Все життя — тільки щоб діти були ситі, вдягнені, освічені.
Старша донька Оксана закінчила медичний університет, потім поїхала до Німеччини — спочатку інтернатура, потім контракт. Там вийшла заміж, народила двійку дітей. Тепер у неї свій будинок, своя родина, своє життя. Ганні лише листівки на свята та рідкісні фото у телефоні. Дзвонить нечасто. Завжди зайнята. Ганна розуміє. Та все ж пишається.
Два сини — Андрій та Богдан — живуть у Києві. Місто недалеко, але здалеку — ніколи не навідаються. Телефонують раз на місяць, у гості — ніколи. Завжди справи, клопоти. Ганна дізнається про їхнє життя від сусідів або зі сторінок у мережі. Не скаржиться. Радіє, що у них усе добре.
Молодша, Настенька, довго жила з матір’ю. Після школи, інституту, вийшла заміж і переїхала до іншого міста — у чоловіка там була квартира від бабусі. Ганна важко перенесла розставання: Настя ж була поруч найдовше. Вона ще дзвонить частіше, але… По голосу чути — поспішає, не встигає, живе своїм дорослим життям.
Ганна вже давно не виходить з дому. Серце шкодить, ноги пухнуть, тиск стрибає. Сама до крамниці ледь дотягує, готує щось просте. Інше приносять сусіди. А частіше за все допомагає Марія Степанівна — її стара подруга. Саме вона возила Ганну по лікарях, виписувала ліки, викликала швидку, коли стало зовсім погано.
Діти… Вони ніби є, але їх — немов і нема. Ганна не звинувачує їх. Може, це вона зробила їх таких — самостійних, відчужених. Не навчила просити допомоги, бо сама все життя справлялася одна.
Нещодавно Настя запропонувала забрати матір до себе, та чоловік різко заперечив: мовляв, тісно, незручно, старим — у пансіонати. Слово за слово — і тему закрили. Ганна й не наполягала. Не хотіла бути тягарем.
Тепер її дні — однакові. Вранці — молитва, ліки, чашка чаю. Потім телевізор потиху, в’язання, квіти на підвіконні. І знову тиша. Часом — дзвінок від Марії, візит санітарки. І щовечора — надія. А раптом завтра хтось із дітей приїде. Постукає у двері, принесе пиріжок, сяде поряд, візьме за руку…
Іноді вона бере до рук старий альбом. Там — її діти. Маленькі, смішні, любі. Там — вона молода, гарна, з очами, що сяють. Там — життя, яке вона віддала без залишку.
Ганна не сердиться. Не нарікає. Лише промовляє:
— Я їх усіх люблю. Завжди чекатиму. Поки серце б’ється — буду вірити.
І тільки Богові відомо, скільки ще днів їй судилося чекати — і чи побачить вона коли-небудь усіх своїх дітей за одним столом.
Мудрість у тому, що любов дається без гарантій. Віддаєш усе — але не вимагай того ж. Інакше — це не любов, а угода. Справжня матір любить, навіть коли її серце болить від самотності.
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