Pretty sure it has been mentioned, will mention it again, Monika was a beautiful woman. Man, oh men, oh women, oh me, beautiful woman.
Without bias she was the single most giving, loving, devoted human being Fred has ever encountered. Had anyway, until he put his foot down on himself, decided to be better.
Better, even than her, this phenomenal omenal presence.
She gave everything, she gave what she could, Moni gave herself, always gave herself. Nothing more, nothing less, it was what she had to give. Mum, she gave her heart, the only thing she had, to everyone, especially to us.
Rachel, Danyel, Benjamin also got to live in the womb of this thing, next our tomb, the prison we were brought up in.
Oma, maybe Grandma, it is not important, she got it once, it is not fair! Monika was given the experience of meeting one grandchild, only a little bit though, not sure she ever got to hear him say a word, as a result of her ridiculous devotion to her family, her community, her town, the greater region, and her God. She gave, devoted, more than anyone this Narrator has ever witnessed. Bar one of course.
She loved her God with all her heart, she gave every beat of it to her children, any left over beats to everybody else.
Around her so many did not give this, not even close, yet they sat on chairs with their fat arses and got fatter and while contributing less and less to the world. The lives of so many was so easy, yet those that actually worked for it was so stupidly hard.
How is this fair? What of your multiple excuses based on your stupid beliefs justifies this shit when she was living all of your rules, and then some? Which one? Damn ignornance!
The last five years of her life were spent in suffering or suffering treatment, the last nine the Narrator’s alter ego watched it all. He was there when she was told she would die, at the same time being told to say goodbye. Make the last days count.
Where is your fair?
The four before that? Raising three, then two, then one child on her own, preparing to leave the home she loved in the process, the one that was once a tomb.
Her husband, he did not die, not this one, that was the first one, her children then three and also one. Instead he just had himself a second family half a country away.
Fair? FUCKING WHERE.
Shall we go back, talk about the abuse in that home again, would you like to hear it again? Just the few parts that are shared, do you need more examples?
For this woman, and these four children, this devoted christian, the most devoted, where is your fair? Where is your loving god? WHERE is the FAIR?
He hit her once too, just once, the point she finally stood up to him. Being hit was the limit, threatening to kill her, somehow, was not it.
Still, Mum, Monika, Moni, the definition of Mother let it all happen to those she loved. Allowed violence, allowed lives to be destroyed?
God, is this why, bud? Are you there, is this reason, for 53, maybe only 52, what more did she need to do?
From Fred’s perspective it is this that mattered, the she could stand up for herself, understand how much she despised being treated this way and then let it happen to those even more defenceless than her. Not stand up for those she was God-damn supposed to.
There is your God people, just there, only that one, the one that does not give a single damn, because it does not. It does not because it simply does not exist.
Mother, please, stand up when it counts and not only when it counts towards you.