How a friend, helped with the clean up, had helped this man with the loss of his own mother, translated…
When my mother was alive, she’d kept the house cleaned, would needed to sweep all three floors, top to bottom, two, three times a week, to feel good about it. And, I’d, often argued about this with her, believed, that her beliefs of me being unkempt was finding troubles for me, that she’s, a clean freak! My mother, however, blamed it on me, said that I was, the biggest cause of the messes in the house, “I’ll just wait and see after I’m gone, how unkempt this place becomes.” My mother spoke the truth. After she’d died, no one ever, started nagging and cleaning the house at the same time, and, the suppressed messy cancer had finally, broke out, the enormous number of things started, making their ways out of my bedroom, and, in a very short period of time, the three story home we owned, started, looking, like a place after huge disasters had hit.
Two years ago, we’d, remodeled the first floor, and, in the pressures from my older sister, I’d, took care of the things piled up on the first floor. Rather than saying tidying up the space, I’d actually, thrown away half of the things, and kept the other half; the half that I couldn’t bring myself to throw out, started, finding a new home on the second floor, and, after awhile, an assortment of books, CDs, cassette tapes, DVDs, VCDs, along with the costumes for performances started, stuffing themselves up all around, gathering dusts. A few months ago, a friend from France came to stay with me for a short while, he, who’s also, a neat freak, started cleaning up that third floor that’s, become totally desolate, fixed up the furniture that’s been damaged, and, the walls got a fresh layer of paint too, and, the potted plants, they’d, gained a brand new life too. And still, my friend had something to say about my room, located on the second floor, he’d needed to, pass, to get to the third; the slippers that’s walked through the second floor, had been, halted, before going up to the third floor. One day, I was, working at the table on the first floor, he’d walked in, and, stood, for a long while, seeming, to have something to say. “Don’t you think that the lighting on the first floor is simply, awful? You can really, damage your sight. There’s enough sun on the second floor in the living room, had you ever, considered, taking your work station up there?” I’d replied, “Nope!”. My friend didn’t say anything else, just, walked, upstairs. That very night, I’d received a call from my friend’s wife, my good friend, who’d told me kindly: my friend wanted to, help me with making over the second floor, and set up a schedule which I should follow, to move about the house for me. I think, he must’ve been, possessed by my mother, or, that he’s the same type as she, other than being a clean freak, he was, also, swift working. Two days later, after all the tools arrived, the newly ordered bookshelves had, entered into my house, and, the remodeling of the second floor of my home began, without me being aware of, what exactly, was happening.
There was one more characteristic that my friend shared with my mother: Even as he’d gotten rid of the unnecessary stuff, he’d refused, to waste anything away. As I’d, finally, thrown out boxes after boxes worth of old appliances, old furniture, he’d salvages a few pieces that could still work, “after some fixing up”. Even that various flower chart that I’d, despised, was also, saved by him. Having an art background, he’d told me, that the painting was, authentic, “And, it looked like a memory of the family, worth saving. If you don’t like it, then, I’ll find it a good spot, or, create something new from it.”, as he’d cleaned, he’d taken out the repeated items of books, CDs I’d bought, criticized me on being so wasteful. He’d painted my white walls green, and added the black and white stripes like my performing costumes. And, the stripes extended to the refinished cabinets, but, it’d, kept the dark red chunks of its original colors. The puppets I’d kept inside their boxes are all, taken out, as decorations on the shelf, they’d gained, that new life now.
After a few days’ worth of work, the second floor living room became, brand new. And, my first-floor office was, moved here, the long cabinet was, refurnished, into my new desk, placed right by the window, with ample light, and, during the daytime, there’s no need to turn on the light. Then, my friend, started, vacuuming up the dusts, mopping away the dirt that’s not gotten cleaned up since ever. Then, the moment he’d put that new rug on the floors, he’d smiled toward me, who was, so very, moved, “This, is a place, you should be, living in. I hope, that after I’d moved away, you don’t, destroy it.” There was, a hint of my mother in his smiles. And I’d known, that my mother had, won this round!
Funny, how fate would, send someone to help you out, when you’d lost someone, isn’t it? And, the friend’s cleaning up the man’s resident had, helped him find the scent of his own mother back, and, maybe, the house became unkempt, because it’s the way the writer of this article, coping with the death of his own mother, but, the friend came to help him out, restored his residence, to the way, that his mother had, left it behind.
Life, the Obstacle Course 