RC Rocks Memoirs Memoirs - October. 2013 - Page 7

There is Always an Another Day


It was 5 years ago, when I learnt that my lovely uncle got throat cancer. I was sad and disappointed; I couldn’t believe that he was hospitalized since he was one of the most energetic person of my family... After he got out of IR I visited him and saw that he was taking his food by a capsule that was attached under his throat. He was in pain every time he gulped, and wasn’t talking if not necessary. Actually it was OK; because I knew that time would make him better. However I was sensing something about him, something different...

One night, after he got out of hospital while we were watching a conspiracy movie in my uncle’s house (and he likes to talk about conspiracy theories), he started talking about masons. At first I couldn’t understand what he was saying but then I focused on his facial expressions, I saw that he was excited and happy because once in a very long time there was a person who was listening to him with pleasure. When he was going to sleep and I was going to my home I thought that both of us leaved there happily, I was happy because I saw a hope in a cancer patient’s heart.

I was looking at a postcard in my bedroom which was saying “there is always another day” and thinking about my uncle, then my mother knocked on my door and said “I have good news for you” she sat next to me and continued; “Your uncle beat cancer; he is going to be better, even his talking is going to be normal in a year” I smiled to her because I realized that there was an another day for my uncle. After she went away I pasted the postcard to my wall.

Days passed and my uncle got better; we were visiting him every weekend (not more often because he was living other side of the city). Before one of our visits my uncle’s wife called my mom and said that my uncle is in an ambulance, going to a hospital because he got pain in his lung; my mother and my father ran to the car and got away. I watch them going and said “There is always another day” to consulate myself. My father came back after a few hours, when he came home he explained me what happened, he told me that my uncle got lung cancer. A couple of months after he beat throat cancer...

I visited him a couple times when he was in hospital and I saw that he was worse than the time he got throat cancer. He was getting weaker day by day; it was like a slow motion death of a person. Every time, I was looking at him carefully before I leave, since that very moment could be my last moment with him. One of my visits before I leave, I looked in to his eyes and happily said “see you” to cheer him up, he answered “goodbye sweetheart”. I went home, but I was obsessed with his words “goodbye sweetheart” why goodbye?

I woke up at night, the doorbell was ringing, I went to the door and opened it, it was my mother and my father, they were coming from my uncles house because in order to the doctors words they took my uncle from hospital and carried him to his house with a nurse so his life quality would be better. The moment my father stepped in his phone rang, it was my uncle’s wife, I only understood two words in her scream “Savaş is not breathing” then they ran back out and disappeared in the dark. I didn’t moved from my position for a moment then I ran to my bedroom and cried for hours in the silence, only thing I was hearing was my hiccups. After I calmed myself down I looked up to the place I pasted the postcard angrily but I couldn’t see anything, it wasn’t there... after that night I didn’t saw it again.

Cem Özbek