The first golden rays of the summer sun crept cautiously through the windowpane, as if afraid to disturb the quiet sanctity of sleep. Inside the room, the women were still lost in dreams. Only the elderly woman by the window had been awake for hours. Memories of the past tugged painfully at her heart even as they warmed her soul. Faith found herself smiling one moment and brushing away a stray tear the next.
How had it come to this? How had she reached her eighties only to feel like a burden no one wanted? Her heart ached most for her daughter, Elena. Regardless of what had happened, Faith was ready to forgive her only child for everything. She was content enough to live out her remaining days here at the assisted living facility. She didn't know how many years she had left—perhaps only months, or even just a few numbered days. Her only wish was for Elena to visit her just once. Faith wanted to ask her daughter's forgiveness, though she wasn't even sure what she had done wrong. That was all the old mother wanted now; then, she could face the end in peace. Only God saw how she suffered now, tormented by the hostility of her own flesh and blood. She told her roommates nothing. Who wants to hear someone else's sorrows? Everyone there had their own story; no one ends up in a nursing home because life has been kind.
***
Faith had lost her mother when she was only six years old. Her older brother was ten at the time, and her little sister was just two. All the burdens of the household fell onto her father's shoulders. When the war broke out, her brother was taken by the enemy forces, and they never heard a word from him again. Her father went off to the front lines and never returned. Faith, still just a child herself, was sent to dig trenches. One afternoon, a mortar shell exploded nearby. Those closest to the blast were killed instantly, but a piece of shrapnel struck Faith in the lower back. That was when the trouble started. The wound would fester and haunt her for years; doctors treated it, but relief was always temporary. Sick or not, she had to work. She had to survive. She was entirely alone in the world.
She started out working for the railroad, but the heavy physical labor drained her strength completely. Later, she found a job at a manufacturing plant. It wasn't easy there either, especially with her physical limitations. A few friends who knew about her injury advised her never to tell anyone; they said no man would ever marry her if they knew. But Faith believed that love didn't care about such things. Eventually, she found her match. Robert was ten years older than her—a good, caring man. He held a management position at the plant but was never arrogant about it. They lived in perfect harmony, though for a long time, God did not send them children. Faith worried constantly that Robert might leave her for another woman who could give him a family. Robert would always soothe her, saying that whatever happened, he would never leave her because he loved her.
***
These were the memories that warmed the old woman now. she also remembered with such fondness the moment she finally realized she was pregnant. Robert had been so overcome with joy when he heard the news that he actually wept. He doted on her throughout the pregnancy, making sure she wanted for nothing. Soon, little Elena was born. She grew up bright and obedient, excelling in school. She got into college on her own merit, without needing any favors or connections. That was where she met her husband, Scott. Faith and Robert liked him instantly and treated him like their own son.
Scott's job required him to travel frequently for business. It was during those trips that Faith began to notice her daughter often coming home from work with a bit too much "holiday spirit." At first, Faith was too embarrassed to say anything, but eventually, she found the courage. Elena blushed, cried, and promised it would never happen again. The promise didn't last long. Whenever Scott was home, Elena was the model wife. But during one of his next trips, she got so drunk she could hardly stand. When Faith tried to shame her into better behavior, Elena snapped back, telling her mother to mind her own business.
***
Faith kept quiet. She was her daughter, after all—who could she tell? She did her best to make sure the neighbors and Scott never noticed a thing, hoping it was just a phase. When Elena got pregnant, everything seemed to fall back into place. Faith was overjoyed; she even forgot about her own chronic aches and pains. A baby boy was born, followed by another a year later. The grandparents doted on those boys. It felt like the happiest time of their lives.
But trouble never sleeps for long. Robert died suddenly of a heart attack. Faith thought she wouldn't survive the loss. After a while, Elena started reaching for the bottle again. The drinking became more frequent. Scott forgave her time and time again, hoping she would change her ways, but she didn't. Worse yet, she found a lover—another heavy drinker—and eventually kicked Scott out of the house.
From then on, Faith's life became unbearable. When Elena and her new boyfriend would come home and start their "performances," Faith would grab the children and scramble out through the window. Luckily, the apartment was on the ground floor. There was no hiding it; the neighbors saw everything. They often told her, "Faith, call the police. She's out of control." But Faith couldn't understand how a mother could turn her own daughter in to the law. One night, when Elena, her boyfriend, and their crowd got truly violent, the neighbors called the police themselves. Elena remained convinced to this day that her mother was the one who did it. Faith would have endured anything to protect her daughter's reputation; she wasn't the type to air her dirty laundry in public.
***
Eventually, Elena tried to have her mother committed to a psychiatric ward. Though she was a heavy drinker, Elena was clever and was sure she could pull it off. It didn't work. Faith then suggested they sell the large apartment and split the proceeds; she offered to take the two grandsons to live with her.
"You live your life however you want," she told her daughter. "Maybe you'll sober up one day."
"Why should I move?" Elena had spat back. "You'll be dead soon anyway."
Elena never worked. Her ex-husband paid a significant amount in child support, and she spent it all on alcohol. Faith endured it for years. Many times, a drunken Elena would burst into her mother's room to scream at her or strike her. Eventually, the oldest grandson installed a deadbolt on Faith's door. There were days when Faith was too afraid to even go to the kitchen to eat, fearing she would cross paths with her daughter's temper. More than once, Elena had taken a tool to the bedroom door, trying to hack her way in.
When the grandsons grew up and started earning their own money, Faith finally asked to be moved to the home. She was comfortable here; after the hell she had lived through, this felt like paradise. But her soul still ached for her child. She wanted nothing from her daughter—just for Elena to stop holding a grudge. Faith didn't feel she had done anything wrong.
"Everything I have—which is the apartment my husband and I earned—I'm leaving to her," the old woman would say. "People told me to find a legal guardian who would look after me in exchange for the property, but how could I take a roof from over my own daughter's head?"
The sunbeams were bolder now, flooding the room with light. The other women were still asleep, and Faith quietly wiped away another tear. She hadn't been feeling well the last few days, but she held on. She had to hold on. She wanted so desperately to make peace with her daughter before the end.
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