Beautiful Eyes

This was the second story I attempted at writing straight after the first one. I didn't really like it as much as the first because I felt that the emotions were not as thick. Anyway, this one comes with overwhelming maternal love, a grudge and regret.
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Many of my friends have commented that I have a pair of beautiful enchanting eyes. According to them, my eyes seem to twinkle with a life of their own. However, this pair of eyes was never something I was proud of. Conversely, they told of a story of boundless regret and pain – my life story of regret and pain.

I never believed that marriage was something happy because my parents’ matrimony was anything but that. My first memories were nothing but quarrels and disagreements between my parents. I never understood how two people could argue so much. Logically, my family was decimated quickly. My mother left the family in search of a better, happier life. Being closer to my mother, I begged for her to bring me along but she did not relent. She had cruelly deserted me as though I was nothing more than an old piece of clothing. My father died shortly having met with a traffic accident and I was brought to an orphanage where I grew up. I could not accept all these and I cried myself to sleep every night. Maybe it was due to the excessive crying, I soon developed an eye infection and by the time I underwent treatment, I had lost my sight.

After I came out of all the sadness, my childhood was nothing but a flash-flood of hatred. All traces of love were wiped clean and I sank into nothing but a quicksand of hatred for my mother whom I conveniently blamed for my plight.

The deepest hatred evolves from the greatest love

I sought solace in music, using it to nurse my torn soul. I learnt how to play the piano and my talent even caught the attention of the orphanage such that they sponsored my lessons with an accomplished musician. I bloomed under his tutelage and within a few years I was often performing at concerts and recitals. I carved a career out of music and for that I was always full of gratitude for the orphanage.

On one of my frequent visits back to the orphanage, I overheard the director speaking to a person whose voice was strangely familiar. The director was thanking the person for having sponsored my music lessons for the past few years. Upon hearing this, I was not filled with the slightest tinge of gratitude because it was at the same time it dawned on me who possessed that cursed voice.

My breathing quickened as several thoughts raced through my mind. “How dare she come back!” “Did she think she could really make amends for what she did!” I was shivering with anger as the dormant hatred within me erupted from within like a volcano.

I marched into the room and everything hurtful within me exploded. Of all that I said, the sentence that I could never forget was “You gave me my life but you took away everything good from it. You think you can make amends but all you have done cannot erase the slightest bit of misery I went through.” Having said all that, I stormed out of the room and left the orphanage hastily.

For the next few weeks, this lady whom I once called mother tried to contact me to explain herself but not once did I give her the chance to go on for more than three words. My life was no whiteboard which she could just erase off anything that she wrote wrongly. More than ten years ago I dreamt day and night of our reunion but now I realized everything that I dreamt of was utterly wrong. The day I lost my sight was the very day she lost her son.

I went about my life as usual but never once did she stop trying to reach out to me. Her attempts came in the form of explanation, begging and tears. As the days went past, her tries slowly smoothened out the hatred within me. I began contemplating to listen to what she had to say and maybe give her a second chance.

It was at this time I received an excellent piece of news. The doctor I frequented called me to say that he had found a donor who could donate a pair of corneas to me. It was the best news I could ever get – a chance of seeing things again after more than ten years of darkness. The operation was arranged the next day and when I recovered, I finally regained my long lost vision. With this joyous feeling within me, I decided to visit my mother to give her a second chance.

I went back to the orphanage and asked the director for her address. To my question, he solemnly told me something that utterly shocked me. My mother had passed away and it happened only a few days ago. However, before I could come to terms to that, the director told me that she had suffered from cancer but deliberately terminated her treatment. The reason was simple, she wanted to donate her corneas to me. I collapsed to the ground with my mind a total blank.

My mother had decided to repay me with whatever I lost yet her amends left me with the greatest debt of my life. I never spoke a single word to her since the time she tried to make amends. I deprived her of a chance to explain herself but more importantly, I deprived myself a chance to love her again. When I decided to give her a second chance, it was actually a decision to give myself a second chance but now everything was over. In fact, there was no need for me to hear her explain herself. Deep down I had already forgiven her and it was on the very day she had returned. For every bit of hatred running through my blood, I had double the love for her in my heart. I did not need to know whether she had her reasons for leaving me for none of them really mattered. I only wished that I had the chance to tell her the simplest three words, “I love you” but it was no longer possible.

Although I was drowned within all the agony of her departure, I forced myself not to shed a single tear. She had left me with her eyes and I had no right to use them to cry. I had to see the world on her behalf as she was now part of me. I vowed to treasure my life even more because part of me belonged to her.

These eyes told a story titled sacrifice and spoke about regret, pain and most importantly a never spoken “I love you”.