The Days without Mirror (Part 29)

2019-6-26

The Days without Mirror (Part 29)

Memoirs of Manijeh Lashgari; The wife of released pilot, Hossein Lashgari

Edited by: Golestan Jafarian

Translator: Zahra Hosseinian

Tehran, Sooreh Mehr Publications Company

‎2016 (Persian Version)

Hossein was managing director of our complex building. We handed the checkbooks and all documents to Mahmoud.

Ali phoned Mohammad Reza’s grandmother and told her the story. Then he took Mohammad Reza to her house. Pari put a pillow in the living room and I lay down. From 6:30 a.m. phone calls began; my siblings, my mother, relatives... At eight am, people had come and sat down on the stairs. Nobody could believe the news. Last night, Hossein was safe and sound. I was shocked; I neither cry nor talk. My sister constantly shook me and said, ‘Manijeh, try to cry.’ All furniture, rugs and decorative things were collected and transferred to Mr. Ghaderi’s house. People sat down around our living and dining rooms. Within an hour, the countertop of our kitchen was filled with glasses and cups. It was summer and hot; we should entertain people with cold syrup. At eleven a.m., out of blue, I got up and said, ‘I want to go and see Hossein.’

They told, ‘It’s not possible.’

I said to my sister's husband, ‘Mahmoud, take me to the hospital.’

He said, ‘I can’t. Hossein’s not in hospital now, his body was sent to the morgue... you have to wait.’

I begged, ‘For God's sake, take me to see him for last time.’

He said, ‘It’s impossible. The air force has taken his body from the hospital.’

That early evening of that day my eyes swelled and reddened severely, although I did not cry at all. I was visited by an ophthalmologist. The doctor knew our family. As he saw me, asked, ‘What’s happened Mrs. Lashgari?’

I replied, ‘My husband’s passed away.’

Doctor stood up and threw his pen to the corner of the room and said, ‘the same news announcing from the morning! I didn’t think at all it’s about the general.’ He examined my eyes and prescribed some medicine and recommended, ‘what should I tell you. Today is the day you cry, but crying for these eyes is like spraying pepper into them. Be careful no contaminated hands and napkins touch your eyes. Use these eye-drops each hour.’

Hossein died on Monday night, but it was announced that the funerary ceremony would be performed on Wednesday. At the first night, my mother and grand aunt took me to my room. My aunt made herbal tea for me and sat down beside me. She cried and said, ‘I wish to die and not to see these days, not to see you in this state!’

My aunt gently caressed me and added, ‘Close your eyes, sweetheart. Tomorrow is a hard day for you. It’s good if you can sleep for even one hour.’

• Auntie. Now is three o’clock, my morning prayers will be delayed.
• No problem... right now sleeping is more urgent than everything for you.

 I fell asleep as my aunt caressed me. I dreamed that the house was crowded; filled with many women... I was crying. Everyone was crying. I heard a voice from behind. I turned and saw Hossein. He said, ‘Don't cry, Manijeh.’ Hossein had stood behind me with flight suit. I asked, ‘oh, Hossein! You’ve not died!’ He said, ‘Manijeh, please forgive me!’ I awakened confused. My aunt was still beside me. ‘What’s wrong? You’d just slept, why you woke up?’ she asked.

• Auntie, I dreamed Hossein... he asked me not to cry... he asked me to forgive him.

My aunt began crying. ‘I swear to God,’ she advised me, ‘that Hossein isn’t pleased that you hurt you and grieve. He’s suffering. This’s your destiny my dear daughter.’ I nodded and approved, ‘Yeah, auntie, this hard life was my destiny.’

I consulted with one of my friends, who was a psychologist, and explained about Hossein's death and the strong attachment of Mohammad Reza to him. I asked, ‘What should I do?’

She recommended, ‘when the funeral and burial finished, take him to the mourning place. If he doesn’t take part and see the ceremony, he’ll never believe it.’

On the day of funerary ceremony, I burst into tears when the face of Hossein was uncovered. I screamed from the bottom of my heart; I could not help it, I was smoldering deeply. As soon as the funeral finished, Ali went and brought Mohammad Reza to home. Now I did not know what to say to this kid. Reaching home, he asked, ‘Where’s Babahossein? Phone him.’

I said, ‘Mohammad Reza, Babahossein is in hospital; he’s not good.’

He said, ‘Mamana, just call him, I want to speak with him. I promise not to go to the hospital, in order he rests and recovers.’

Little by little, Mohammad Reza noticed surrounding that we all were in black. Hossein's photo with a black ribbon among flowers was everywhere in our house. He saw these and was constantly silent. The psychologist had recommended that I will be the only one who informs him. I hugged him and said, ‘Mohammad Reza, Babahossein went to the hospital, but he didn’t recover. Now he went to sky; we no longer can see him.’

He suddenly burst into tears, ‘I want to see my Babahossein... God’s a very bad person doesn’t let Babahossein to come back. I don’t like God anymore.’

One hour passed. He again brought the phone and asked me, ‘Well, no problem he doesn’t let me to see Babahossein; call him, I want to talk with him.’ I helplessly called the psychologist and said how he was restless. She said, ‘take him to Behesh-e-Zahra, buy a gift he likes; and say Babahossein's bought this gift for him!’

The ceremony of ‘seventh day’ after Hossein’s death was held in Raftari restaurant. In the floor beneath the restaurant there was a big toy store. I and my sister went there and bought a doll of one of his favorite characters in animated films and wrapped it. On the seventh day we went to Behesh-e-Zahra. ‘Mamana, where’s it here you've taken me?’ he asked.

I replied, ‘Here’s Babahossein’s home?’ The grave was topped with soil and it was a hot day. He turned his back from the grave and cried. ‘Here’s very dirty, Babahossein was very clean. He doesn’t like here. It's very hot and there’s no cooler. What if he wants to take a shower...What’s his lunch?’ He said these words one after another and I wept bitterly. My sister and brother hugged him and took him. He did not please with that toy. He threw it away in the graveyard and said, ‘I want Babahossein, I don’t want gift.’

To be continued…