The Day the Mountains Crashed into the Sea by Ellen Janzen

Author:Ellen Janzen [Janzen, Ellen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author Academy Elite
Published: 2020-12-15T00:00:00+00:00

Another Child,

Another Mother

February 2009

It is 2:00 a.m. in winter; the ringing of our phone wakes my husband and me from deep sleep. My husband is pulling on his clothing before he is even off the phone. It is a good friend, Hamed, who has called. Hamed’s brother, Samir, has been killed in a car accident. Their family lives two hours away, but my husband will go; he is out of our driveway in minutes.

My husband is gone for two days, helping the family bury their youngest son, the one that makes them all laugh, the life of the party. The party that is now over. The grief is crippling.

Hamed’s wedding is supposed to be in three months, but the culture dictates it will be postponed for a year. Or perhaps not, the family is in chaos, the death adding to their confusion and needs.

July 2009

It is 2:00 a.m. again, five months have passed. I am at the wedding with our four children. Hamed has married, in a celebration that more closely resembled a wake than a wedding. The evening was marked with chanting instead of music, no dancing, and no highlights of joy or laughter. Hamed’s mother asked that he not postpone his marriage because her arthritis is worse, and she can no longer cook. She needs a daughter-in-law to take over.

But Hamed’s mom does not wear festive clothing for the evening, and neither do many of the guests. Photos are taken in private, without any of the usual jovial banter. Guests are somber, mostly silent, matching the morose strains in the music. It is a relief when the guests start to go home and the evening is finally done.

Now, into the night hours, my husband is chauffeur for the chanting band, normally hired for funerals and wakes. He is taking them home. They left before midnight, and he will soon be back; their village is just over an hour away. This is the first wedding we’ve attended that ended before midnight.

My younger daughter is falling asleep and asking if she can lie down. I take her to a room with mattresses on the floor. While she is settling, I hear the sound of a human voice, raised in a song of lament. I am startled and transfixed. I have heard such a voice in an opera performance, the sound of profound sadness, expressing deepest regret, deepest longing.

But this is different—the emotional overtones and undertones are all genuine, not a dramatic performance mimicking life. I recognize the song, even though I have never heard it before. If I had sung a lament for my mom when she died, it would have sounded like this.

It is sung in a language that I am familiar with, but the words are not clear. Only one phrase is perfectly clear to me, “Oh God, why have you taken my son from me?”

When I look down again, my daughter is sleeping soundly. I move quickly from this room toward the sound of the voice. My feet take me faster than my mind can think.

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