З життя
Як почати відчувати тепло до власного онука?
Щоденник Оксани Миколаївни
Мені шістдесят два, і сьогодні я вирішила вилити на папір те, що ніколи не наважувалася сказати вголос. Те, що гризе мене кожен день. Те, за що мені соромно перед собою та страшно перед людьми.
Моя єдина донька Соломія живе вже п’ять років у Польщі. Вона поїхала туди на навчання, а потім зустріла свого майбутнього чоловіка — Войцеха. Весілля відбулося без мене: то здоров’я підвело, то візи не дали, то грошей не вистачило. Ми довго чекали зустрічі, але навіть коли в Соломії народився син, мій онук, я не змогла приїхати — папери, карантини, сотні кілометрів…
Онука, Ярему (у них його називають Яреком), я побачила лише через два роки після його народження. Уявіть: перший онук, довгоочікуваний, рідний! Я стільки разів уявляла ту мить — як притисну його до себе, як заплачу від щастя, як він малими рученятами торкатиметься моїх сивих кучерів, а я сміятимусь і гладитиму його по голівці…
Але все вийшло інакше. Коли я вперше обняла Ярему, відчула лише порожнечу. Холод. Він тягнувся до мене, немов до тітки з сусіднього двору, але в моєму серці не прокинулося ані тепла, ані ніжності, ані тієї любові, про яку так багато пишуть. Я намагалася — посміхалася, гралася, пекла вареники. Але це було наче за звичкою, без души, без справжніх емоцій. Іноді здавалося, що я граю роль у чужій виставі.
«Це мине», — повторювала я. «Він же ще зовсім малий, треба більше часу». Але тижні минали, а нічого не мінялося. Я лишалася такою ж далекою й байдужою. Іноді ловила себе на жахливій думці: якби це була дитина сусідки, я б поводилася так само. Невже ж я така жорстока? Що зі мною не так?
Коли Соломія з чоловіком та сином повернулися до Польщі, я відчула… полегшення. А потім мене накрив потужний сором. Як так? Це ж мій онук! Частинка моєї доньки. Хіба я маю право на такі почуття? Я ж мріяла стати бабою, ще до його народження плела панчішки, уявляла, як годуватиму його медовими пампушками, читатиму казки, водитиму до скверу…
А тепер я не знаю, як далі жити з цим болем. Не наважуюся зізнатися Соломії — вона точно не зрозуміє. Для неї це буде зрада. Та й як сказати таке? Що я не люблю її сина, свого онука? Просто не відчуваю зв’язку. Ніби ми з різних планет, і той мотузок, що міг би нас з’єднати, розірвався ще до того, як утворився.
А вчора вона подзвонила й радісно розповіла, що на Трійцю вони знову приїдуть. Просила придумати, куди підемо гуляти, казала, що Ярема вже трохи говорить українською і вивчив для мене віршика… Я лише ківала, а в грудях стискалося від жаху.
Як знову надіти маску люблячої баби? Як прикидатися щасливою, коли всередині — пустота? Чи я просто стара й зачерствіла? А може, це через те, що я досі не пробачила Соломії її від’їзд, її шлюб із чужинцем, її нове життя, де для мене вже майже нема місця?..
Не знаю. Я лише хочу зрозуміти — чи можна навчитися любити онука? Чи це почуття має спалахнути одразу, із першого погляду? Чому його в мене немає? Що я роблю не так? Може, я просто не створена для цієї ролі? Чи моя туга за донькою перетворилася на байдужість до її дитини?
Я звертаюся до тих, хто відчував щось подібне. Чи бувало у вас так, що любов до онука не приходила одразу? І якщо так — коли вона прокинулася? Що ви робили, щоб розтопити кригу в своєму серці?
Мені важко про це писати. Але я не хочу до кінця днів бути лицедієм. Хочу бути справжньою бабою. Хочу любити. Хочу відчувати. Хочу, щоб Ярема одного дня сказав друзям: «А в мене є бабуся. Найкраща на світі». А поки що я не знаю, як до цього дійти…
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