It was Too Late...

The spider‘s web was spreading all over the room. The old woman was trying to string a needle with her skinny bone hands, but her hands were shaking and her eyes could not see the needle, so she left the old carpet.

Outside the room there was a cold wind. Old woman put some potatoes into a black dish and fired under it; soon, there was a black and suffocating smoke in air, after a while she put them into a broken bowl and brought it home. Slowly, slowly the sun was setting; there was darkness all around the air while there was no light inside the house of old woman. She took one of the potatoes to eat, but couldn’t swallow it. A cold, clear tear followed on her cheeks.

The room was so cold there was not even a white quilt at home. She put an old scrappy piece of cloth on herself and whispered under lips: “They would come after me; they would take me with themselves." “We will live happily together onward.” She repeated those sentences several times. Again the drops of tears covered her face.

Next day, there was a heavy snow outside the house. The broken windows of the old woman's room were filled with icy snow. A cold wind was rising from snow outside the room. She had nothing to eat, just some potatoes remained from last night. She felt a pain all over her body and did not have the power even to walk. With tired motionless eyes she gazed out of the room which was white and covered by a whitish color.

Today everything seemed different for her. She gazed at the door and still was waiting, but no one came in. When night spread its darkness wings over the white snow her eyes were closed. Next morning there were many people inside her home. The old woman was lying with a pale, yellow face, but it was strange she neither talked nor moved. Her eyes were fixed at the door. There was a striped paper far from her near the door.

“Poor old woman is dead” “Does she have someone?” whispered two women together.

“I heard that she has got four sons,” said one of them.

“But where are they?”

“Do they know about their mother‘s death?” asked another one.

“Go away!”

“Let us go inside room!” said a young man and came to the home. Three other young men also followed him.

“Mom, no!” shouted the young man and hugged the old woman's corpse.

“No! You are not her sons!” shouted an old man. “Although she had four sons, you left her alone.”

“During all these years, not once you did not come to meet her, so how can you be her sons?”

“When you call mom, don’t you shy?” “Shame is on you.” Then he started reading that striped paper which he silently read a few minutes ago:

My dear sons,

I and your father grew you up hardly. We did our best to provide you the best life we could. We worked hard all days and nights to provide money for your education and did not let you even to think poor yourselves among other children. Whenever you were ill, I felt your pain as well. If one night you had fever I did not sleep the whole night with my rainy eyes, I prayed to God to recover you soon. You were so small, while I took your hands and taught you how to walk in the streets explicitly and how to fight against difficulties implicitly.

I remember all those nights when you were hungry, I gave you my own food and spent hunger in nightmarish nights till dawn, but never ever let you known the lack of nourishing at home. Since, you have grown up and gotten married you have forgotten everything even forgotten your old weak-kneed mother. It is good that your father has not seen such a misery and pain that you gave to your old mother in his absence.

As much as I spun the cotton, my hair became white like them. Yesterday I wanted to string a needle, but my hands shook as the cold winter wind and my eyes neither sigh, nor recognized anything. Everyone bought woods, birds closed their nests, the creeping went and hid somewhere, but I was the only one in this cold, frigid winter who had nothing.

As much as I patched up my dresses, those patches were torn again and again. When there was no light in the sky my room was thick and dark. Since, I slept hungry every night there was no remedies at right. As much as my nose smelt the neighbor's foods, so it became repeated without any marks. Seems this white cloud informs me about my going. Maybe one day you came which is so late…

Maybe you shouted or cried for my motionless dead body, but that time it would be useless and brings just hopeless. Until I was alive, you did not come to meet me, so if you pour water on my gravestone after my death there is no remedies and gives you nothing.

My dear sons! I love you and do forever. Meeting you was my Last Wish but seems it will be impossible for me to meet you for the last time. This withered old woman has nothing to give you while she has always prayed to God for you, asked Him to bestow you whatever you want in life and she would do…

I have forgiven you for what you did with me and wish you have a good, successful life filled with happiness forever.

Your old mother,

After reading the letter everyone was crying. Four young men were punishing themselves, but as the old woman mentioned: It was too late….