This year’s Nobel Prize in Literature goes to feminist writer Annie Ernaux, who beautifully weaves her own stories into her works. While previous winners like Louise Glück in 2020 and Abdulrazak Gurnah in 2021 haven’t seen much translation in the country, Ernaux’s works are already familiar to many here.
I wanted to see my mother one last time and place two blossoming quince branches from my bag over her heart. We didn’t know if we would get the chance to see her one final time before they closed the coffin.
No matter how old we get, new experiences can make us feel clumsy. And this cycle repeats until our very last breath.
The following summer, she suffered a femoral neck fracture. The hospital decided against surgery. Like her glasses or dentures, creating replacements was deemed pointless.
No one came to visit her; to them, she was already gone. But she had a will to live, constantly trying to rise on her good leg and break free from her restraints. She was perpetually hungry, focusing all her energy on her mouth. She loved receiving kisses and puckered her lips to give them. She was like a little girl, never to grow up. 🌸
The harshness of defining the limits of necessity is a uniquely human trait, driven by efficiency. Even if her glasses broke or her dentures cracked, replacing them was seen as meaningless. It’s an acknowledgment that death is near, and it doesn’t matter what the person’s will is.
All week, I recalled that Sunday she was alive, the brown woolen socks, the forsythia, her gestures, and the smile when she said goodbye. Then came Monday, when she lay in bed and took her last breath. I tried to connect those two days, but I couldn’t.
There comes a moment when life and death are divided. Just like flicking off a switch and watching the light disappear, existence is no longer acknowledged. Sunday and Monday, once continuous, are forever separated by death. Although the writer’s emotions about her mother’s passing are absent from the sentences, my heart felt heavy. As if time itself had split, needing countless days to flow seamlessly again.
No matter how life was lived, humans end their journey in solitude. Everyone must walk through that long, narrow tunnel. It’s a life’s final task, something we’d rather not think about but must. While we’re all caught up in life’s chaos, let’s not overlook this impactful and thought-provoking piece. 🌟
Leave a Reply