З життя
Повернення додому, де ніхто тебе не чекає…
Повернутися до батьківської хати, і ніхто не чекає на тебе там…
Я не міг уявити, що я, який вже майже п’ятдесяти, технік до кісток, досить мовчазний і навіть, як каже дружина, тупуватий, сяду перед комп’ютером не для роботи, а щоб написати листа. 16 років тому я виїхав на роботу за кордон, швидко пристосувався і забрав із собою родину.
Невдовзі після цього мій батько помер, а матір залишилася сама.
Вона ніколи не скаржилася, не дорікала мені, не натякала, що нікому про неї дбати — я ж єдиний син. Ми часто чули один одного, і вона казала, наскільки їй добре і що все у неї гаразд.
Питання: «Коли ти приїдеш?» насправді означало, що їй сумно й дуже самотньо.
Серцем можу сказати, що я турбувався про неї, думав про неї, не покинув її, не забував її на мить. Найбільший мій гріх у тому, що я не виконав свою обіцянку.
Кожен рік я приїздив в Україну у серпні, коли вся компанія була у відпустці, і це був наш час.
Повернутися до батьківської домівки
Ми відвідували друзів і родичів, їздили в місця, які нагадували їй про молодість з батьком, а в останні роки я водив її до лікарів і санаторіїв.
Ми разом ходили в кіно, гуляли, запрошували гостей. Вона балувала мене стравами та солодощами, які я любив з дитинства.
Вона завжди проводжала мене до входу в кооператив і не їхала в аеропорт… щоб я не бачив її сліз.
Я продовжував обіцяти їй, що цього разу зроблю все можливе, щоб повернутися додому на Різдво або Пасху, не пізніше наступного серпня. Саме тут я не дотримався обіцянки, і відчуваю страшну провину.
Так, я приїхав додому на початку грудня минулого року, але не для того, щоб обійняти маму, не відчути запах її знаменитого коричного торта, не почути від неї привітання з гарячим вином та горіхами, а щоб провести її в останню путь.
Біль і розчарування розривали мене зсередини.
Моє єдине втішення було в тому, що моя мати померла праведно, спокійно, без страждань, уві сні.
Але це не полегшило тягар у моєму серці, не вгамувало совість, не заглушило відчуття, що я залишився один. Я повернувся, як зазвичай, у серпні.
Але коли я побачив замкнуті двері, відчув, як сум душить мене. Я не почув кроків у коридорі, не відчув запаху печених перців чи смажених слив…
Здавалося, що стеля впаде мені на голову.
Потрібно було кілька днів, щоб зібратися з думками і наважитися доторкнутися до материних речей, навіть газети залишалися на місці.
Хочу сказати синам, які живуть далеко від своїх батьків: часто повертаєтеся, як би вам це важко не було, і дотримуйтеся своїх обіцянок.
Бо настане день, коли у нас буде і час, і можливість, але не буде найважливішого — рідної людини, щоб зустрітися з нами.
Повірте, немає важчого випробування, ніж зіткнутися з замкненими дверима в батьківській хаті.
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