my friend S. M.

I took two Bosnians to the hospital to visit a third, S., one of my favorite refugees, who just had her forty-second birthday. She's in the ICU and we have no idea what's wrong with her. We lied to the ICU people, telling them that one of the other ladies was her cousin so we could get in--but the nurse didn't seem completely taken in by the lie. She wouldn't tell us anything other than S had slightly improved this morning.

God. She must have been horrible before today then.

While we were there, she opened her eyes, but I don't think anyone's home. The ladies spoke to her in Bosnian and she didn't respond.

Here's the part that has stuck with me since the visit. For the first time in the five years I've known her, today I noticed two things:

1. Her eyes are gorgeous. Big, blue and, right now, blank as can be.

2. She didn't have a look of pain. And here's the thing: she must have had one for all the time I've known her. I had always thought that you can't actually read other people unless they are obviously grimacing, smiling, whatever. Turns out it is possible to see the tiniest expressions. The lines on her face have relaxed or her eyes are more open . . . Something is different, so that even though she's desperately sick (with who knows what) in the ICU, the anguish (whatever it was) is gone.

Over the years, I've seen her laugh and cry and get angry, but now? Her intelligence, along with something else that's always been a part of her face, is gone. That something was a shadow: pain, grief, anger--I don't know.

A lot of years to carry her burdens (whatever they are).

Comments

  1. Suisan10:47 AM

    I can see this is upsetting to you, but this was so beautifully written too.

    There is an intelligence not only in the eyes but in the rest of the face which you're touching on. (It must be why death masks never look to me like the person they obviuosly represent.)

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