A small glimpse into the world of silence

It was a lovely summer’s day. It was her birthday – her twentieth in a row. A celebration? No, not for her. She had nothing to celebrate. The fact that she had been born? That brought her no joy whatsoever – neither then nor now. Nor was there anyone to share it with – she had long since been alone in this world. Friends? Poverty had robbed her of them too.

She lived alone in a small rented flat, which she could barely afford. She took whatever work she could find, wherever she could find it. And she had been working for as long as she could remember. In that respect, summer was kinder – the weather was warm, there was more work, and all the life around her meant she didn’t feel quite so alone. Winter was harder. Then, apart from loneliness, the cold and hunger were her constant companions. But she had grown used to their company. Last winter, however, proved to be very hard. Then illness struck – one of the many things she could not afford – and she realised she would soon be no longer among the living. But what did it matter – would anyone even miss her? Would anyone even ask after her? She had never possessed anything of value that she feared losing. Life? She hadn’t achieved it – it had called to her of its own accord. And if it had told her why it was calling her, she surely wouldn’t have followed it.

The illness was getting the better of her with every passing day. It wasn’t difficult – it’s easy to defeat someone who has nothing to fight for. She didn’t tell anyone about it. She didn’t even know what it was, only that it would destroy her. She longed, however, to live to see the summer – she loved the summer and its sunny days, on which she had been born. During the harsh winter days, that was her wish: to endure until summer came again, to see it, and to leave this world on the very day she had arrived.

It was summer now. It was her birthday – her twentieth in a row. She woke up fully aware that this would be the last time she ever woke up. And her illness was making that increasingly clear with every passing day. Especially the last week – it had been dreadful. But not this morning – this morning she woke up feeling no pain. In fact, she felt marvellous! This surprised her. Had life taken pity on her in her final hours? Yet even in those final hours, she did not rush about wondering what to do; instead, just as on any other morning during the warmer days, she picked up the little basket of flowers and went outside. She stopped at the door and turned round. Slowly, as if to say goodbye, she looked around the room, then actually whispered „goodbye“ and went out.

Just like any other morning during the warm weather, she stood on the corner of the block where she lived – which was situated at a busy crossroads – placed the little table with the flowers in front of her, and waited. That was what she did on lovely summer days – she sold flowers.

She was waiting. But for what? For someone to buy a flower from her and give her a bit of money to somehow make ends meet for the day? But why did she need money today – she was leaving, after all?! No, it wasn’t the money she was interested in. She was interested in the people who passed her by and who would be here tomorrow, and the day after – still hurrying off somewhere, with their worries and problems, most of which they’d brought upon themselves.

Yes, that’s what she did whilst she was waiting – she’d look and think. She’d often follow someone with her eyes and wonder where they were going, what sort of life they led, what they did for a living... For example, if a well-dressed young man walked past her, she’d immediately think of the girl he was probably on his way to see, and sometimes – very often, in fact – she wished it were her. For the doorbell to ring and, when she opened it, for him to be there – having made every effort to look his best… for her. And she, happy at the attention and delighted to feel special and unique, would hug him, kiss him, and together they would go out for a wonderful evening.

But that was never going to happen! She was never going to be in that girl’s shoes. Why? Because life simply hadn’t smiled on her. Unlike her, who never hid her smile from him. What’s more – she loved him! And she loved him not only because she was losing him – although that is always a powerful reason – but also because she understood him. She understood how easy it is for a person to be happy, that he actually is happy, but doesn’t realise it, and that is precisely where his unhappiness lies. Take, for example, the woman with the little boy who were waiting to cross the road – why, when he stepped onto the tarmac before her, did she pull him roughly back and start shouting at him? Was it really so hard for her to accept that he actually wanted to lead the way, that today the little man had decided to look after his mum, just as she looked after him every day? If only she’d allowed herself to think that – even if it wasn’t the case – how differently she would have treated him!… A mother with a child – yet another thing she would never be. Yet another happiness she would never experience!

Well, what about the man in the suit with the briefcase, hurrying off somewhere, his gaze fixed on the ground? What was this thing he was thinking about – so important that it could extinguish all the spark of life in his eyes? And who, really, is this worthy substitute for the splendour of life? Some figures and dilemmas? Come off it!... And all those people walking the streets just like him – what did they see of life? How, if you don’t see life, can you possibly feel it, how?!

Just then, a large black limousine pulled up at the crossroads in front of her. In the front seat, next to the driver, sat a beautiful girl with long blonde hair. In one hand she held a small mirror, whilst with the other she was carefully applying her make-up. It was clear that she attached great importance to this activity. The poor girl stared at her. Sensing her gaze, the pretty girl glanced at her casually. Then she smiled a faint, contemptuous smile and looked straight ahead again. The limousine drove off.

But who was the fair-haired girl mocking – the poor girl?! No, she was mocking herself – her shallow mind and empty soul. For what she failed to see was herself, sitting behind the little table. For what she failed to realise was that the only reason their places had not been swapped was the will of life itself!... What, could the sick girl not have been healthy and taken the place of that powdered, deceitful creature? She could have, of course – all the physical advantages were hers. All the human advantages were hers. But life had decided otherwise. And she submitted to it.

But there was, after all, one reason for all of this. A small, personal, inner reason, the foundation of a thousand reasons – her faith. She saw the grandeur of this world and believed that it was no mere coincidence. In everything she saw the hand of a creator-magician and believed that he was just. She believed in eternity. In the fact that now, when she leaves this place, she will go somewhere else. That when she closed her eyes to this life, she would open them to a new one. It had to be so! It simply couldn’t be otherwise! Otherwise, the misery of her life would be unjustifiable! Otherwise, her love would be in vain! Otherwise, there would be no justice!

Such thoughts had been swirling round the girl’s beautiful head during her final days. They were still there on her last day. But it was time to put her beliefs to the test. It was time to go. At that thought, a slight and unexpected panic seized her. Unexpected, because she had long since come to terms with the idea of this day and was certain she was ready for it. But clearly, such readiness did not exist. The panic suddenly turned to fear, and the girl felt her legs go weak. What now? She knew, she sensed, that if she set off, she would not return. But where would she go? What lay ahead of her? Would she see a light at the end of the tunnel, would she walk through a field, would she see God, and what would she say to Him?

What if they go nowhere? What if they see nothing more? What if, when they close their eyes, only darkness remains before them?... No – it cannot be like that! Surely, when someone is laid to rest, does the story of a life come to an end? What, then, is the point of it all? What is the point of how you lived and who you were, if it is all to be erased? And only a name will remain of you, carved into a low stone? No, it cannot be so! The world cannot forget those who loved it, who marvelled at its beauty and wisdom, and who dedicated their lives to something sacred. And there are so, so many of them! Are they really gone now… nowhere to be found? Yet they are part of it – a tiny world within the greater world!

The whirlwind and the weight of these thoughts made her head spin. Her vision went dark. She found herself wishing she didn’t have to leave, that she could carry on selling, watch the passers-by for a little longer, and then go home. But she sensed that it wouldn’t be like that – not today. Another day, perhaps… someday.

And so, she realised once again that it was time to go. Instinctively, she reached out to clear away the little table with the flowers, but then realised she had nowhere to take them. She realised that nobody there takes anything with them. We leave everything here, everything! We take only what we came with, and perhaps what we have done with it will be the measure of what lies ahead. She raised her head and looked up at the sky. At that very moment, however, a bright light blinded her and she closed her eyes, which filled with tears. It was clear that from here, it was impossible to tell what lay ahead.

She set off, leaving behind the little table with several bouquets on it, which seemed to be watching her go. After a while, she disappeared into the stream of people who, just like her, were heading somewhere.

Late in the afternoon on that summer’s day, a group of neighbours had gathered in one place and were chatting quietly amongst themselves:

– Tsk, tsk, tsk... how on earth did this happen? Such a young, pretty girl...

– Well, the child was ill. Ill, but he was holding up well!

– And when?...

– Last night, whilst she was asleep. Whilst she was asleep, and...

– Tsk, tsk, tsk... she was a lovely girl.

– Great!

Then everyone went their separate ways, each returning to where they had come from.