Anna’s purpose in life after death had always been clear to her. It would be the same as her purpose in life before death, the purpose that she had been striving to fulfil for the last six years. Unfortunately, this was becoming harder and harder, especially after Anna became sick. This worried her to the extent that she was eager to move to the other side just to be able to fulfil her purpose better.
Anna’s purpose in life, before her death and after it, was concerned with her dearly beloved grandson Benichka. To guard him, to protect him, to keep him from harm, to make his life happy, free of suffering. Wincing from pain, the constant pain that had recently become the essence of her life, Anna picked up her phone and brought it to her eyes. A cute chestnut-haired boy in a red soccer form smiled at her, showing his first missing milk-tooth. Anna sighed, put the phone down on her bed and closed her eyes.
Fulfilling her purpose had been relatively easy when Benichka was a toddler, left in Anna’s care while his parents were at work. To buy him that green truck he wanted so much, to take him on a swing for a thousandth time, to get him another ice-cream (‘don’t tell your Mom!’), to run after him constantly, watching that he would not fall. Of course, there were things she could not control, like when he craved a doll that belonged to another child. Anna could not take the doll from its owner and give to her grandson, could she? Nor could she allow him to run in the middle of a road or bang with a stick on a car. But at least, at such moments of extreme frustration, Anna would hug her grandson, press him to her chest, wide and soft, hold his small trembling body until the tears subside. And then offer him another piece of her delicious cherry pie that she had baked especially for him.
Fulfilling her purpose had still been possible after Benichka started attending a day-care for several hours in the morning. Although this did require several stern conversations with teachers and even with a director - Anna had to ensure her grandson was receiving a top-notch treatment. Once she came to pick Benichka up and saw him outside without a cap, in February! His ears were so cold, she had to rub them. At home she gave him warm tea with honey, so he would not get sick. In their defence, the teachers claimed that Benjamin had been wearing the cap, apparently had removed it shortly before Anna came, but hey, this was unacceptable! And another time, he was bitten! Bitten, imagine that! Where did such savage children come from? To her enraged demand for justice, the day-care director professed that Benjamin started the row banging the child (the director refused to extradite the offender’s name) on the head with a toy truck. But Anna would not take this nonsense – if her grandson, this kind gentle soul, hit someone, this person had definitely deserved it! She nagged the director until the woman vowed to take personal responsibility that such thing never happened again.
Fulfilling her purpose had become more challenging after Benichka started school. Anna immediately disliked the teacher, Frau Scharf. Stern and strict, she was obviously unfair to give so many tasks. To demand from such a small boy to redo his homework, claiming that he had been too sloppy! But Anna was not allowed to go and have an explanatory conversation with the teacher, said Helen, Anna’s daughter. She would take care of that herself, and anyway some discipline was not bad for this spoilt child, Helen added. Spoilt child! Anna rampaged. Perhaps his mother should not be working the whole day and instead could give her only child a little bit more love and care! No, Helen replied, perhaps his grandmother should stop being so overprotective. I raised you the same way and you turned out just fine, argued Anna. But Helen only shrugged. Anna raged in vain; in the end she had to be content with cooking Benichka’s favourite meals and desserts, helping him with his homework, and watching that no one hurt him on a playground or during a soccer training.
Fulfilling her purpose had become almost impossible after Anna was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. It became literally impossible after she was hospitalized. She did not want Benichka to visit her, oncological ward being obviously unsuitable place for kids. Still, he came once with his mother, and Anna was wheeled down to a hospital yard to meet him. The early-spring sun was shining at this ugly place of illness and death; sun glares played in Benichka’s hair, making it appear even more soft and shiny. His long fringe was constantly getting in his eyes and Anna moved it aside from his forehead with her crooked trembling hand. When had he grown so much, Anna wondered; it seemed only yesterday she had hold him for the first time, just four hours after he had been born. The sun had been shining into a hospital room when Anna accepted the bundle of joy with shaking hands. She had to sit down, she was worried she might stumble from so much emotions. Through her tears, she stared at the tiny rumpled face with puffy eyelids… and at that moment the baby opened its eyes and gazed directly into Anna’s… Looking back at her life, the long-long sequence of moments, stretching behind her like an endless plume - this moment was by far the shiniest one. This, and the similar one thirty years before that, when she had been holding her new-born daughter for the first time.
And now her grandson was so big, so big and so far away from her. With diminishing strength, Anna would interrogate her daughter. How was he doing at school? He is doing fine, Mom, he read one full page yesterday. What does this Frau Scharf say? Does she bother him? Do some other boys bother him? There used to be this fat boy… How is his soccer training going? Shouldn’t he have his fringe cut? But Helen would simply answer that everything was fine, that Anna should stop worrying, that she should better rest and take care of her health. At least her daughter had reduced working hours, but still Anna felt anguish. They were obviously hiding stuff from her, so she would not worry. To calm down, she would envision herself as a ghost, how she would follow Benichka everywhere he went, watching his back.
When Anna realized the end was coming close, she began to have doubts. What if she was wrong? Could it be that what expected her after her death was not what she was counting on? What if there was nothing, like some said? Or, like the others believed, the paradise and hell version? It did not matter to Anna which one she got into as long as she was not able to keep an eye on Benichka. Or reincarnation? This could be fine if she got to be Benichka’s pet or something, but with her luck she would be a dog in Korea. All Anna wanted was to be close to her grandson, and with this thought she gave her last breath.
As they promised, there was a tunnel, a blue light and all this, and then she found herself floating in the air. ‘Found herself’ was a tricky expression because Anna could see herself still lying on the hospital bed; the floating version of her did not have any body. Circling in the air above doctors and nurses that were now in the room, Anna noted with satisfaction that she was invisible to them. Now it was time to check her capabilities, make sure they were not like in this sad movie where the ghost guy could not move simple things. Anna looked around and concentrated her attention on a tray with her last untouched meal. She looked intently at a spoon that lay near yoghurt and then at the floor and – bang! the spoon fell, provoking a curious look from one of the nurses, who then shrugged and picked it up. Satisfied, Anna went through the window glass and flew away. It was time to look after Benichka.
Fulfilling her purpose had been relatively easy when Benichka was a toddler, left in Anna’s care while his parents were at work. To buy him that green truck he wanted so much, to take him on a swing for a thousandth time, to get him another ice-cream (‘don’t tell your Mom!’), to run after him constantly, watching that he would not fall. Of course, there were things she could not control, like when he craved a doll that belonged to another child. Anna could not take the doll from its owner and give to her grandson, could she? Nor could she allow him to run in the middle of a road or bang with a stick on a car. But at least, at such moments of extreme frustration, Anna would hug her grandson, press him to her chest, wide and soft, hold his small trembling body until the tears subside. And then offer him another piece of her delicious cherry pie that she had baked especially for him.
Fulfilling her purpose had still been possible after Benichka started attending a day-care for several hours in the morning. Although this did require several stern conversations with teachers and even with a director - Anna had to ensure her grandson was receiving a top-notch treatment. Once she came to pick Benichka up and saw him outside without a cap, in February! His ears were so cold, she had to rub them. At home she gave him warm tea with honey, so he would not get sick. In their defence, the teachers claimed that Benjamin had been wearing the cap, apparently had removed it shortly before Anna came, but hey, this was unacceptable! And another time, he was bitten! Bitten, imagine that! Where did such savage children come from? To her enraged demand for justice, the day-care director professed that Benjamin started the row banging the child (the director refused to extradite the offender’s name) on the head with a toy truck. But Anna would not take this nonsense – if her grandson, this kind gentle soul, hit someone, this person had definitely deserved it! She nagged the director until the woman vowed to take personal responsibility that such thing never happened again.
Fulfilling her purpose had become more challenging after Benichka started school. Anna immediately disliked the teacher, Frau Scharf. Stern and strict, she was obviously unfair to give so many tasks. To demand from such a small boy to redo his homework, claiming that he had been too sloppy! But Anna was not allowed to go and have an explanatory conversation with the teacher, said Helen, Anna’s daughter. She would take care of that herself, and anyway some discipline was not bad for this spoilt child, Helen added. Spoilt child! Anna rampaged. Perhaps his mother should not be working the whole day and instead could give her only child a little bit more love and care! No, Helen replied, perhaps his grandmother should stop being so overprotective. I raised you the same way and you turned out just fine, argued Anna. But Helen only shrugged. Anna raged in vain; in the end she had to be content with cooking Benichka’s favourite meals and desserts, helping him with his homework, and watching that no one hurt him on a playground or during a soccer training.
Fulfilling her purpose had become almost impossible after Anna was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. It became literally impossible after she was hospitalized. She did not want Benichka to visit her, oncological ward being obviously unsuitable place for kids. Still, he came once with his mother, and Anna was wheeled down to a hospital yard to meet him. The early-spring sun was shining at this ugly place of illness and death; sun glares played in Benichka’s hair, making it appear even more soft and shiny. His long fringe was constantly getting in his eyes and Anna moved it aside from his forehead with her crooked trembling hand. When had he grown so much, Anna wondered; it seemed only yesterday she had hold him for the first time, just four hours after he had been born. The sun had been shining into a hospital room when Anna accepted the bundle of joy with shaking hands. She had to sit down, she was worried she might stumble from so much emotions. Through her tears, she stared at the tiny rumpled face with puffy eyelids… and at that moment the baby opened its eyes and gazed directly into Anna’s… Looking back at her life, the long-long sequence of moments, stretching behind her like an endless plume - this moment was by far the shiniest one. This, and the similar one thirty years before that, when she had been holding her new-born daughter for the first time.
And now her grandson was so big, so big and so far away from her. With diminishing strength, Anna would interrogate her daughter. How was he doing at school? He is doing fine, Mom, he read one full page yesterday. What does this Frau Scharf say? Does she bother him? Do some other boys bother him? There used to be this fat boy… How is his soccer training going? Shouldn’t he have his fringe cut? But Helen would simply answer that everything was fine, that Anna should stop worrying, that she should better rest and take care of her health. At least her daughter had reduced working hours, but still Anna felt anguish. They were obviously hiding stuff from her, so she would not worry. To calm down, she would envision herself as a ghost, how she would follow Benichka everywhere he went, watching his back.
When Anna realized the end was coming close, she began to have doubts. What if she was wrong? Could it be that what expected her after her death was not what she was counting on? What if there was nothing, like some said? Or, like the others believed, the paradise and hell version? It did not matter to Anna which one she got into as long as she was not able to keep an eye on Benichka. Or reincarnation? This could be fine if she got to be Benichka’s pet or something, but with her luck she would be a dog in Korea. All Anna wanted was to be close to her grandson, and with this thought she gave her last breath.
As they promised, there was a tunnel, a blue light and all this, and then she found herself floating in the air. ‘Found herself’ was a tricky expression because Anna could see herself still lying on the hospital bed; the floating version of her did not have any body. Circling in the air above doctors and nurses that were now in the room, Anna noted with satisfaction that she was invisible to them. Now it was time to check her capabilities, make sure they were not like in this sad movie where the ghost guy could not move simple things. Anna looked around and concentrated her attention on a tray with her last untouched meal. She looked intently at a spoon that lay near yoghurt and then at the floor and – bang! the spoon fell, provoking a curious look from one of the nurses, who then shrugged and picked it up. Satisfied, Anna went through the window glass and flew away. It was time to look after Benichka.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎
‘I wish Grandma were alive.’ A cute chestnut-haired boy with two missing front teeth lay in bed dressed in red superman pyjamas. His mother was sitting on a chair next to him, a story book in her lap.
‘Of course, Beni,’ she said gently, moving aside the fringe from his forehead, ‘I miss her too.’
‘You know,’ continued the boy, ‘this week, since she died… I don’t know… things are pretty weird.’
‘I know, honey. It’s weird to lose someone you loved.’
‘No, no! It’s not this!’ Agitated, the boy sat on the bed. ‘I mean, of course, I miss her and all, but I was talking about something else.’
‘What do you mean then, honey?’ The woman shot a glance at the bedside watch.
‘Like, weird stuff happens!’
‘Weird?’
‘Yes! For example, hear this: tonight, during the game, I made a really bad shot. Like, I knew it was bad! Really weak and all. But then the ball flew to the goal! My team won the game! Everyone cheered at me, but I felt sort of …’
Helen frowned, rubbing her forehead.
‘Or yesterday at the class,’ continued Benjamin, ‘I was solving math. Then I had to pee. When I came back…’ He stopped, chewing the sleeve of his pyjamas.
‘What?’ Helen was staring at her son.
‘I don’t know, Mom… it’s like what I wrote… was erased and other answers were written! I asked Maya who did it, but she claimed she saw nothing! And this was not her writing anyway. It was…’
Helen felt her skin crawling. ‘Go on, Beni! Whose writing was that?’
‘Grandma’s,’ he whispered.
Silence fell over the room, only the watch was ticking quietly. Helen stood up, flung the window open, letting the cool evening breeze in. Their small street was quiet; it was getting dark. She took several deep breaths. I wish Dirk were here and not at his stupid volleyball, she thought. The bed-time routine was going in a wrong direction.
‘Do you think I am crazy?’
‘No, honey, of course no! But… you know… you miss Grandma so much that you could…’
‘This is real, Mom!’ the boy yelled, stamping his feet on the floor, ‘I am not imagining that! After this goal tonight, I remembered different things that happened this week. Like, I was running in the school yard during the break and the fat Moritz from 3d called me an ass… a bad word, and he wanted to kick me, then suddenly he fell! Fell to the ground just like that! Or remember, when you told me to clean up the mess in my room or I won’t get any tablet and I got super angry? I went upstairs later and… and my room was already cleaned! I thought then maybe Dad did it but now I realize… Or when Frau Scharf…’
‘Ok, I see,’ interrupted Helen, trying to appear calm. She closed the window and sat on the bed near her son. ‘You mean Grandma… she is here somehow?’
‘Grandma!’ yelled Benjamin, jumping from the bed. What a mistake, Helen thought but it was too late. ‘If you hear me now…’ Beni’s eyes scanned the room pausing on a large model plane that hung from the ceiling. ‘If you hear me, let this plane fall down!’
‘Ok, that’s enough…’
‘Common, Grandma, I know you are here! Don’t be so stubborn!’
With a start, Helen realized she was staring at the plane, expecting it to move any moment.
‘Nuuuu, Grandma, please!’
‘Stop that!’ Helen screamed. She grabbed her son and seated him in her lap. I must call Dirk, her thoughts raced, where the hell is my phone? Her husband would not answer during the game anyway; she had to deal with this herself. Her heart was racing, the armpits of her shirt were soaked in sweat. She took a deep breath.
‘Stop that, Beni,’ said Helen more calmly, ‘even if Grandma were here, she would never do anything so scary. Right, Mom?’ What am I saying? Did it seem to her or did the plane move ever slightly?
The boy hugged her and put his head on her shoulder. Helen kissed his forehead.
‘You know, Mom,’ Benjamin said into her shoulder, ‘I used to think it would be cool… if things were… you know, good, all the time. But… like, when Frau Scharf praised me for solving everything correct, I was not feeling so nice. Or when my team cheered me for the goal… I felt I didn’t deserve it. When I put a goal myself that’s something else.’
‘You are a very smart boy,’ Helen said, hiding her face in his hair, ‘smart and brave. Grandma would have been very proud of you.’
At that moment, a streetlamp opposite the bedroom window came on, a bright light dispelling the deepening darkness.
‘Of course, Beni,’ she said gently, moving aside the fringe from his forehead, ‘I miss her too.’
‘You know,’ continued the boy, ‘this week, since she died… I don’t know… things are pretty weird.’
‘I know, honey. It’s weird to lose someone you loved.’
‘No, no! It’s not this!’ Agitated, the boy sat on the bed. ‘I mean, of course, I miss her and all, but I was talking about something else.’
‘What do you mean then, honey?’ The woman shot a glance at the bedside watch.
‘Like, weird stuff happens!’
‘Weird?’
‘Yes! For example, hear this: tonight, during the game, I made a really bad shot. Like, I knew it was bad! Really weak and all. But then the ball flew to the goal! My team won the game! Everyone cheered at me, but I felt sort of …’
Helen frowned, rubbing her forehead.
‘Or yesterday at the class,’ continued Benjamin, ‘I was solving math. Then I had to pee. When I came back…’ He stopped, chewing the sleeve of his pyjamas.
‘What?’ Helen was staring at her son.
‘I don’t know, Mom… it’s like what I wrote… was erased and other answers were written! I asked Maya who did it, but she claimed she saw nothing! And this was not her writing anyway. It was…’
Helen felt her skin crawling. ‘Go on, Beni! Whose writing was that?’
‘Grandma’s,’ he whispered.
Silence fell over the room, only the watch was ticking quietly. Helen stood up, flung the window open, letting the cool evening breeze in. Their small street was quiet; it was getting dark. She took several deep breaths. I wish Dirk were here and not at his stupid volleyball, she thought. The bed-time routine was going in a wrong direction.
‘Do you think I am crazy?’
‘No, honey, of course no! But… you know… you miss Grandma so much that you could…’
‘This is real, Mom!’ the boy yelled, stamping his feet on the floor, ‘I am not imagining that! After this goal tonight, I remembered different things that happened this week. Like, I was running in the school yard during the break and the fat Moritz from 3d called me an ass… a bad word, and he wanted to kick me, then suddenly he fell! Fell to the ground just like that! Or remember, when you told me to clean up the mess in my room or I won’t get any tablet and I got super angry? I went upstairs later and… and my room was already cleaned! I thought then maybe Dad did it but now I realize… Or when Frau Scharf…’
‘Ok, I see,’ interrupted Helen, trying to appear calm. She closed the window and sat on the bed near her son. ‘You mean Grandma… she is here somehow?’
‘Grandma!’ yelled Benjamin, jumping from the bed. What a mistake, Helen thought but it was too late. ‘If you hear me now…’ Beni’s eyes scanned the room pausing on a large model plane that hung from the ceiling. ‘If you hear me, let this plane fall down!’
‘Ok, that’s enough…’
‘Common, Grandma, I know you are here! Don’t be so stubborn!’
With a start, Helen realized she was staring at the plane, expecting it to move any moment.
‘Nuuuu, Grandma, please!’
‘Stop that!’ Helen screamed. She grabbed her son and seated him in her lap. I must call Dirk, her thoughts raced, where the hell is my phone? Her husband would not answer during the game anyway; she had to deal with this herself. Her heart was racing, the armpits of her shirt were soaked in sweat. She took a deep breath.
‘Stop that, Beni,’ said Helen more calmly, ‘even if Grandma were here, she would never do anything so scary. Right, Mom?’ What am I saying? Did it seem to her or did the plane move ever slightly?
The boy hugged her and put his head on her shoulder. Helen kissed his forehead.
‘You know, Mom,’ Benjamin said into her shoulder, ‘I used to think it would be cool… if things were… you know, good, all the time. But… like, when Frau Scharf praised me for solving everything correct, I was not feeling so nice. Or when my team cheered me for the goal… I felt I didn’t deserve it. When I put a goal myself that’s something else.’
‘You are a very smart boy,’ Helen said, hiding her face in his hair, ‘smart and brave. Grandma would have been very proud of you.’
At that moment, a streetlamp opposite the bedroom window came on, a bright light dispelling the deepening darkness.
⸎ ⸎ ⸎
Ghost don’t cry, Anna thought, watching the dark window of her grandson’s bedroom from the quiet street. Ghost don’t cry, their eyes don’t sting, there are no lumps in their throat, no tightening pain in their chests. Their hearts don’t explode from love so big they can’t contain. From inability to let go. She had stayed to make sure Benichka calmed down and fell asleep. Helen was still awake, crying in the kitchen, her husband comforting her. But Anna could not stay any longer. The night sky above her was shining in thousands of luminous colours; it was calling her. What awaited her there: oblivion, heaven or hell, reincarnation – Anna still did not know. But she knew that her purpose in life had required some reformulation. And that she had very much succeeded to fulfil her purpose, once reformulated.
Yulia Tseytlin is a Russian-Israeli that currently resides in Germany. Since submitting her Doctoral dissertation in Economics, she pursues her childhood dream of becoming a fiction writer. Her work explores the genres of literary fiction and contemporary fiction, blending in her personal experiences as a woman, a mother, and an immigrant.
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