By Vanda Vaitkevičienė
English Translation by Gloria
O’Brien
Rima Augaitienė is on her way
home from work, every muscle aching with weariness. Her head aches, and melancholy, hopeless
thoughts, like plaguey flies, continually torment her.
--- How much longer will I
be able to continue this heavy factory work?
Can I bear it? Will my health
hold up?
--- I must bear it! --- she thinks, but doubtfully, because as
she continues her difficult, hard work at the factory, she can feel her
strength waning daily, like an advancing darkness. Each day as she leaves work she feels
exhausted. Her head spins, and it seems
as if the sky and land merge, whirling, swinging….
Rima with her husband and
children came to
Andrius had recently
graduated from high school and wanted to proceed to higher learning. His dream was to be an atomic engineer.
He was clever, able and
hard-working. But how to arrange for
study? Where would they get the money?
Edu
Rima walks slowly, deep in
sorrowful thought. Suddenly it begins to
rain, and she is still several blocks from home. Taking a short-cut, she hurries down a narrow
side-street. She trips over something
heavy and just saves herself from falling.
She looks down at an old
framed portrait being washed by the rain.
A pair of lovely blue eyes looks at her from the surrounding dirt. Rima, recovering from her fright, looks all
around, and sees a pile of old, used, discarded items – and the portrait. The eyes, full of grief, attract and draw
Rima’s pity. Glancing around once more,
she picks up the portrait, and carries it home.
Reaching home, and
stepping onto the porch, she gently wipes the dirt from the face of the
portrait, and sees an elderly, gray-haired woman, her pleasant features marked
with wrinkles, and her remarkable eyes,
imploring, as though brimming
with unshed tears, her sorrow unknown yet heart-wrenching.
Her children were
surprised, when their mother, having brought this discarded, old, faded picture
home and cleaned it up, hung it in her own bedroom. They didn’t see anything special about
it: it was just an old, deteriorated oil
portrait, not at all interesting. But
Rima saw a living something in the portrait, and couldn’t bring herself to
throw it out again. The picture spoke to
her, drew her in.
But Andrius, especially,
seemed to be almost ashamed, that his mother would actually pick up a worthless
discarded object from the street, and bring it home. All three children appealed to their mother
that she should allow them, under cover of darkness, to return the picture to
the place where she had found it. She
was about to give up and accede to their wishes, but she looked once more at
the face, with eyes so alive and grieving.
The woman in the picture was saying something to her, something she did
not understand, but which she could not ignore.
So she kissed each of her
children, and firmly told them:
--- Do not dare to touch this portrait! It is going to stay right here, and when I
have some money saved up, I’m going to place it in a fine, new frame. In this picture, I see a living person, full
of pain.
The children backed off,
and saw that they would have to accept their mother’s whim. And so the old lady’s portrait remained in
the mother’s bedroom. Sometimes, when
the children didn’t see, Rima would look at the old lady’s face, and, in her
thoughts, she would speak to her, telling her all her problems. The unknown lady became familiar to her, like
a dear relative. Perhaps Rima was
reminded of her own dear old mother, left in
The years passed. Andrius was now a college student, Laima had
finished grade school and had applied to a Catholic high school, and Vida was
in the fourth grade.
But now, an unexpected
misfortune: a heart attack sends Rima to
bed. Now, there is no bread-winner, no
one to pay for edu
Spring in all its
decorative beauty -- with blossoms and
birdsong -- trod
the earth. Tulips bloomed, and
narcissus. Lawns sprang into bright
green life. Joy came to all of
nature. But Rima’s cheeks were pale,
exhausted by illness. Her eyes often
bathed in tears, seeing her children’s hardships. And the lady in the portrait, her friend in
grief and trouble, seemed to see and understand, and send her sympathy.
Sunday morning. Church bells ring in the distance, calling
people to the Lord’s sanctuary, to distance themselves, at least once weekly,
from earthly troubles, and through prayer, join themselves to the Almighty. Rima somehow felt better that day, and sat up
in bed. Her door suddenly opened, and
all three children entered, bearing flowers,
wishing her a happy birthday, with hugs, kisses and loving compliments. Ah, those children – they were her life’s
good fortune.
Rima’s heart basked in the
glow of happiness. She felt enlivened,
healthier, refreshed by her children’s love.
They draped her in a new, soft, white shawl, put new, warm slippers on
her feet, and her younger daughter placed the flowers in a vase. She disappeared into the next room, and
quickly returned, hiding something behind her back, laughing:
--- And here, Mama, is something for your
friend --- she said, and handed her a handsome frame.
Rima was surprised and
delighted. Andrius took the portrait
down, and everyone gathered to help.
When they removed the yellowed paper from the back of the old frame,
they were astonished to find a large, thick, worn envelope stuck to the back of
the portrait. Almost breathless with
excitement, Rima opened it, finding 20,000 dollars and a letter. And such a letter! All four read it in amazement.
“I wish you the Lord’s
blessings, and leave you all my hard-earned money. All I ask is that you pray for me. My children all wait for my death: my two sons, daughters-in-law, and
grandchildren. They never loved me. All they cared about was my property. I signed my house over to them, and they
allowed me to live with them, though not truly as a mother, but as an unwelcome
tenant. I loved them all greatly, but
they only waited for my life to end, so that they could have the last bit of my
wealth. Only one of my grandchildren, my
dear Antanas, loved and honored me. It
was he who painted this portrait of me.
But he died in the Korean war.
May the Lord give him heavenly peace, and grant that we may be together
upon my death. I have decided to put all
my money in this envelope and hide it within my portrait, as a test of my
children’s loyalty and respect. I
believe that when I am dead, they will scorn my memory and discard this
portrait in the trash with the rest of my small possessions. And so I leave this money to you, who have
found my portrait and recognized the heartache so well captured by my dear
Antanas. I wish you much happiness, my good friend, you who pulled
this unhappy old mother’s picture out of a trash-heap. I ask for your prayers, and thank you.”
That lady’s gift came to
Rima and her family as a true miracle.
Rima was able to consult the best cardiologists, and her health
returned. Andrius went back to university,
and after a few years, reached his goal, becoming an atomic engineer. Laima finished high school and then nursing
school. Vida, the youngest, attended a
prestigious art school.
Several times each year,
Rima requests that Holy Mass be celebrated for her unknown benefactor. And the portrait, restored and magnificently
framed, hangs in their comfortable parlor.
The deep blue eyes look upon that fine family with loving kindness and
endless blessings.
Vanda Tomašauskaitė-Vaitkevičienė was born in Lithuania in 1909 and was a teacher in
Lithuania,
This story was printed in Bridges,
May 2005