Born to care
After crying over the death of the man who had been her companion for more than half of her life and whom she had cared for during her illness, came strange behaviors such as saving my father's food and a long, heavy silence, so uncharacteristic of my mother, who had always been a quarrelsome, perfectionist, demanding woman:
"Julio, how many times have I told you not to leave toothpaste on the mirror, to hang the wet towel and not to leave it on the bed, to put your socks in the sock drawer? I'm not going to last your whole life,” she assured, while Dad, used to those scoldings, continued doing what he was doing without flinching before the intemperate exclamations of his wife, who never imagined that it would be my father who would leave before her.
One afternoon, a stray dog came to the house. Some say they had never seen it before, others that the dog had been tied up in the yard of an abandoned house for a long time. The dog came and stopped at the gate and sat there as if waiting for someone. When my mother saw him, the first thing she did was to give him food and water, while talking to him:
"Where were you that you are so thirsty and so hungry?" -she asked him that first time the dog left the food and water containers empty. After that day, the dog continued to come daily and my mother began to feed him.
"But why do you have to lick the cream off your paws and ears? That's poison!" -Mom yelled at the dog, whose black coat she had named Negrín.
That was how Negrin became the being that God sent Mom so that she could speak again, so that she could have someone to complain to on a daily basis about her behavior:
"I went out to look for you, but since I didn't see you, I didn't feed you. He who is in the street eats the street,” Mom says to the dog who makes sad eyes, ‘What hole have you crawled into that you are all dirty and full of grease,’ Mom asks the dog as if he could answer her, while she puts the food in a container.
"Negrín, Negrín, where has that madman gone?" -She asks herself and answers herself, “He must have gone after a car or a motorcycle".
But mom, in spite of the dog's absence, fills his food and water containers, as she did with my father after he died. But unlike my father, the dog always comes back, always comes back, and my mother complains to him:
"Where have you been? Make the most of it and eat, I'm not going to last you all your life!" -And Negrín jumps up and eats quickly without paying much attention to what my mother says, like my father did when my mother scolded him and she didn't know that my father would go to heaven before her.
My intention, when I started this story, was to talk about my father and mother's love, but as I wrote it became this other story: the story of Mom and her need to care for and love someone. I hope you were able to appreciate it. Thank you
All images are free of charge and the text is my own, translated in Deepl
Thank you for reading and commenting. Until a future reading, friends
Click here to read in spanish
Nacida para cuidar
Cuando papá murió, tuvimos miedo de que mamá también muriera o se volviera loca. Habían vivido toda la vida juntos, que cuando papá se fue, pensamos que se había llevado las ganas de vivir de aquella mujer que había dado todo por él o que mamá perdería la noción de la realidad.
Después del llanto por la muerte del hombre que había sido su compañero más de la mitad de su vida y al que había cuidado en la enfermedad, vinieron conductas extrañas como guardarle la comida a mi padre y un silencio largo, pesado, tan poco característico en mi madre, quien siempre había sido una mujer peleadora, perfeccionista, exigente:
_¡Julio, cuántas veces te he dicho que no dejes crema dental en el espejo, que guindes la toalla mojada y no la dejes sobre la cama, que guardes los calcetines en la gaveta de los calcetines. Yo no te voy a durar toda la vida -aseguraba, mientras que papá, acostumbrado a aquellos regaños, seguía haciendo lo que estaba haciendo sin inmutarse ante la exclamaciones destempladas de su mujer, quien jamás se imaginó que sería mi padre el que se iría antes que ella.
Pero después que papá murió, los ojos de mi madre se llenaron de agua y la boca de mi madre se selló por completo y solo se abría, para un simple monosílabo, un ay, un lamento bajito como si su pecho fuera una pequeña casa de 4 paredes, sin gente.
Una tarde, llegó a la casa un perro callejero. Algunos dicen que jamás lo habían visto, otros que el perro estubo amarrado en el patio de una casa abandonada por mucho tiempo. El perro llegó y se detuvo en el portón, allí se sentó como esperando a alguien. Cuando mi madre lo vio, lo primero que hizo fue darle comida y darle agua, mientras le hablaba:
_¿Dónde estabas tú que tienes tanta sed y tanta hambre? -le preguntó esa primera vez que el perro dejó los envases de agua y comida vacíos. Después de ese día, el perro siguió viniendo diariamente y mi madre comenzó a alimentarlo.
Como todo perro callejero, su cuerpo famélico estaba lleno de pulgas y heridas. Sin que nadie se pudiera oponer a lo que hacía, mamá comenzó a limpiar y tratar al perro, como si fuera un ser querido o un familiar muy cercano. Por supuesto, el cuido tenía su dosis de regaño:
_Pero por qué tienes qué lamerte la crema de las patas y las orejas? Eso es veneno! -le gritaba mamá al perro, que por ser de pelaje negro, le había puesto como nombre Negrín.
Fue así que Negrín se convirtió en el ser que Dios le mandó a mamá para que volviera a hablar, para que volviera a tener a alguien a quien reclamarle diariamente su comportamiento :
_Yo salí a buscarte, pero como no te vi, no te puse comida. El que está en la calle come calle -sentencia mamá antes el perro que pone ojitos tristones- En cuál hueco te habrás metido que estás todo sucio y lleno de grasa -le pregunta mamá al perro como si él pudiera responderle, mientras le pone la comida en un envase.
A veces Negrín no va a casa y mamá se preocupa y lo llama:
_Negrín, Negrín. ¿Dónde se habrá metido ese loco? -se pregunta ella misma y ella misma se responde- Ese debe haberse ido detrás de un carro o una moto.
Pero mamá, a pesar de la ausencia del perro, le llena los envases de comida y de agua, como hacía con mi padre después de muerto. Pero a diferencia de mi padre, el perro siempre regresa, siempre vuelve y mi madre le reclama:
_¡A dónde te habías metido? Aprovecha a comer que yo no te voy a durar toda la vida -y Negrín brinca y come rápido sin prestarle mucha atención a lo que dice mi madre, como hacía mi padre cuando madre lo regañaba y ella no sabía que papá se iría al cielo primero que ella.
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STOPThank you for the information
What a deep and beautiful story. Sad, but with a hint of hope. I really liked.
I'm glad you liked it. Greetings and thanks for commenting
What a beautiful story. Animals sometimes are God's sent to heal us. Thanks for sharing your story
Exactly. That's how I see it too. Thank you for your comment
I remember my father saying to one of my aunts after my mum's death with teary eyes, that he always thought he would go before her. When one partner goes, the one left behind is so often thrown into emotional truama as was the case of your mom. The way she was affected by your dad's death shows she cared deeply for him when he was alive. Taking care of the stray dog helped ease some of the burden. I hope she got better and better after that.
I truly enjoyed your story, you work is one of great talent.
I am moved by your words, because I agree with them. When a couple has lived so long, they become almost siblings, and death can also mean their death. Thank you for your comment, my friend.
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I loved what you wrote, the melancholic part of your father's death and the dog that filled that void and made your mother feel needed again.
Thanks for sharing your experience with us.
Excellent Monday.
I have learned that as we get older, we don't want to be a burden, we want to feel useful, to have someone depend on us. A great day to you, my friend