Death

Back on Christmas (Friday), I wanted to make an apple crisp. I didn't have a glass dish large enough, so I went across the landing and borrowed one from my neighbor, Gül (whose name means "rose" in Turkish). I promised to bring it back soon, and when she asked what all the fuss was about, she came over to check out our Christmas tree. Her son--about 16 or 17-- took a photo of me and my flatmate in front of our tree. They left and that was that.

Then on Monday, I came home from work, and my flatmate told me she thought there'd been a death. Some girl had come around the building, bringing people some kind of (cinnamony, sweet, savory, powdery) food. She'd seen people crying a lot. But we didn't really know what was going on. I asked my friend what to say in Turkish when someone dies--there are lots of fixed phrases for social interactions, thankfully--and memorized it in case I needed to say it. But a little scared by the prospect of death in the building, I had hung onto the glass dish.

Tonight, Wednesday, I came up to our flat and noticed that Gül's door was ajar. It seemed opportune. I ran into our kitchen, grabbed the glass dish, and knocked quietly on the door. Her son answered the door. He looked rough. Without knowing what was really going on, but figuring that maybe the grandmother had died...

I said, "Başın sağolsun (literally, My condolences, although less cheesy)."

"Thanks," he said.

"Ummm... Who?" I asked.

"My mother."

I was shocked--she'd seemed fine and young... "What happened," I asked.

Something I could only interpret as a heart problem.

Not understanding, not really wanting to believe, in my horribly naive yabancı Turkish, I asked,

"Is she ok?" Now. Present simple. Implying life.

"No," he said simply. "She died."

I felt so, so, so stupid. So horribly inept. I made him say it.

"I'm so sorry," I said.

He nodded.

I had no idea what to do.

"See you," I whispered. "Good night."

And went back across the landing.