A "room of remembrance”
Upstairs in the house there was a small room, here she kept all the memories of her late son. All his letters, his clothes and shoes, his music collection, his model cars, photos of him from little boy to grown man, all the things that once belonged to him.
It was his room, he loved the view from the small window, out into the garden with the many trees.
Every time she was up here she thought of her "little boy", of the many stories, the great experiences, in her mind she saw him sitting at the table, the floor full of toys, when she was in this room it seemed to her that he was still alive.
It had been two years since the accident. Right in front of the front door, a car came around the bend, her son was about to leave on his bike, a big bang, lots of blood, the ambulance came quickly, death was faster. The driver was not to blame, it was just a chain of unfortunate circumstances that led to the collision.
The images of that day were immediately burned into her mind, every time she woke up since then the same movie started in her head, she saw the accident again and again. Her ego tormented her day after day with the past, terrible event.
When she became particularly sad she would climb up to his old room, she would fix his bed, air the room, fix his clothes, rearrange things. When she was done, she would sit at the table and look out the window, completely lost in her thoughts.
The pain was strong and did not stop no matter what she did, why only her son, how could this happen?
Her family tried everything possible to distract her, to comfort her, but no one could help her, she didn't want help either, she just wanted to "be with her son". And in his room she felt closest to him.
A light breeze came through the window as her eyes fell on her son's books. A particularly colorful one caught her eye, why had she never noticed this book before? "Buddha" was written on the spine, she sat back down at the table and began to leaf through it. She was a Christian, she couldn't do much with Buddhism, but because it was her son's book she just kept reading.
While she was immersed in the teachings of the Indian prince, she felt a warm wave rising within her, a form of peace spreading through her. How could this be, she asked herself. But she continued to look at page after page, time passed, quickly it was dark, she had to turn on the light. Her husband and daughter came home, calling for her. She closed the book and descended the stairs into the living room, but she kept the volume firmly in her hands. Every day she read that book, the philosophy of Buddha gave her much comfort, she regained her lost security.
Then came the day when she stopped going to the "Room of Remembrance." She had experienced "enlightenment."
THERE IS A BOOK THAT MANY WHO KNOW IT BY HEART DO NOT KNOW
- MARIE VON EBNER-ESCHENBACH - AUSTRIAN WRITER - 1830 TO 1916
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