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Peter J. Oszmann

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· Jew Be or Not Jew Be; The Story of a Perpetual Alien

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You'll cry where no one will see you.
By Peter J. Oszmann
Posted: Saturday, December 01, 2007
Last edited: Saturday, December 01, 2007
This short story is rated "G" by the Author.

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Recent stories by Peter J. Oszmann
· Stories about my childhood, my Mother and her family.
· The Butterfly Effect (Repost) Revised
· A living, breathing abstract art…- (Satire)
· Christmas Miracles.
· The Anniversary.
· Traces In The Air - A story of Meaningful Coincidences.
· A Bar of Chocolate… and a Smile…
           >> View all 28
A true story about a "prophecy" twice fulfilled…







- "You'll cry where no one will see you." - My mother - bless her soul - had always been quite adept at making me feel guilty; even in my early childhood. The coded message in that sentence - first uttered when I was just a little lad - was that one day, when she will be dead and gone, I'd be sorry. After all, she was "The Only Mother" I had and I should feel deeply ashamed for displeasing her.

The same sentence was repeated every time I managed to upset her, almost right up to her dying days. It was engraved with subliminal psychological claw-marks on my heart and psyche.

Naturally, when she passed away at age ninety-four, after suffering with Alzheimer disease for the last eight years of her life, overcome by emotions of guilt and sorrow, I retreated to a quiet place where no one could see me and cried like a child. After all she was "The Only Mother" I had, I was her only child, and in spite of her many faults and her unquestionable talent for psychological blackmail, I loved her dearly. It was not just my duty to cry; the tears came from deep down… 

Prophecy fulfilled…


Never in my wildest dream could I have thought that this prophetic sentence would have any further meaning past the grieving period after her death. I never heard that sentence uttered by anyone else, it was uniquely her way of making me feel guilty, it could not possibly apply to any other situation in my life, I thought.

I was wrong…


She passed away in the early hours of the 15th of August 2002. She was cremated in the morning of the 19th of August in Croydon Cemetery. In early July arrangements were made for a family holiday in the French Alps, starting on the 19th of August. When the arrangements were made, my mother was still in good physical health, no warning signs of any imminent problems indicating that the end was near. She was resident in a nursing home receiving good care. The end came suddenly, unexpectedly and swiftly, when she was admitted to hospital with an acute infection and high fever. She was gone within three days of admission.


At my insistence, after her funeral, the whole family went on the holiday as arranged, but without me. I needed to retreat on my own to fulfil her prophecy. How else could have I cried where no one would see me?

And how could have I guessed that a tragedy would soon to unfold?


The two weeks, whilst the family was away and I stayed at home on my own, gave me a chance to grieve in solitude and reflect on my mother's life. By the time the family returned I was at peace within myself and felt grateful for the opportunity of that solitude. Within two weeks of the family's return from holiday Erika - my wife - fell ill with an acute obstruction in the colon and landed in hospital with an emergency admission. Cancer was suspected and the diagnosis was proved correct after major surgery, when a large section of her colon was removed. I will not go into detail here about what followed, - it is too painful to describe - suffice to say she had two more major and two minor surgical interventions and two courses of chemotherapy within five years, following the initial surgery.


In true character she put up a brave and determined fight. After all this was the girl who in 1956, after the abortive Hungarian Uprising, went on the run with me, and - eight and a half months pregnant - travelled two days and two nights  - one full night of it on foot - in appalling weather conditions and dodging Russian bullets - and all that without a murmur - to cross the border into Austria and to start a new life in forced emigration. She had been a determined, stubborn fighter all her life, so it came as no surprise that for five years she fought hard against the dreaded disease, keeping cheerful, active and optimistic, steadfastly refusing to talk about dying. Dying was simply not an option. Travelling became almost an obsession with her. We went on a month and a half long round the world trip, visiting Japan, Australia, New Zealand, Fiji and the West coast of the USA, had several shorter European trips and a three weeks long, hard and exhausting journey through many provinces and cities of China. All that between surgical interventions, courses of treatment and frequent check ups, scans and laboratory tests. She seemed inexhaustible. If treatment had to be put on hold, or tests had to be postponed in order that she could have her travelling completed, then so be it.

A bad fall, resulting in a broken arm on a trip to Budapest last year, could not dampen her zest for travel. She booked another trip to Budapest for May this year for both of us and in February went to visit a school friend in Germany, having declined another course of chemotherapy earlier.


But eventually time and her energy were beginning to ran out… On her return from Germany, we both succumbed to a heavy cold, accompanied by a bad chest infection. Now the proverbial writing on the wall became highly visible. The trip to Budapest had to be cancelled as she was beginning to lose her battle.

Still, she refused to give in… fighting against ever increasing severe pain and other manifestations of the disease, she kept on planning further travels and steadfastly refused chemotherapy.

By May, she was hardly able to walk. In July she was admitted - in quick successions - in seven different hospitals within Greater London. With the last three admissions, with severe jaundice, I began to realise that the end was getting near. After two surgical procedures to clear the obstruction in the bile duct, she was discharged and the jaundice gradually disappeared, reaffirming her never fading optimism. By now she was on regular high doses of morphine to control the pain, together with a large and almost daily changing selection of medication, to ease a variety of symptoms and to control side effects of some of the drugs.


Unable to walk unaided, she insisted on going out for a lunch to celebrate our fifty-second anniversary, in mid July, just one month before the end, and just three days before the end, again she insisted that I should take her to her favourite leisure centre for a swim. Swimming was her favourite pastime, her favourite way of exercising. Her birth-sign was Pisces; she was a strong swimmer. On this occasion she could hardly stand up in the water and had to pause after just a few strokes, yet she carried on for two full lengths with frequent stops and pauses.

            -"I'm going to beat this, if it is the last thing I do. I am not ready to go yet." - she declared, out of breath, as she finally stopped, meaning that dying was still out of the question.


Stupidly, I believed her. With such determination, how could she not win? I wanted to believe her - against all odds - I did not want her to leave me. After 55 years of partnership, being together almost all the time during those years, and after all what we had been through together, she had no right to desert me now.


The end came swiftly, and almost unexpectedly. One minute she was swimming and fighting, the next she was fast fading and gone. There were no discussions, no goodbyes… no appeals against the inevitable… She was gone overnight… In the evening she was in the bed next to mine, relatively relaxed, by eight o'clock the following morning her bed was empty… and so is what is left of my life…

She passed away in the early hours of the 15th of August 2007, very notably on the fifth anniversary of my mother's death… almost to the hour…


Under the circumstances it was unavoidable that once again my mother's prophetic words came back to haunt me: - "You'll cry where no one will see you."  - The prophecy was to be fulfilled for the second time… this time almost with a vengeance…


After three months of grieving the tears had stopped - officially at least. Now, if my face gets moist - other then from washing - my excuse is that I am voluntarily draining the cerebral fluid through my tear-ducts, in order to reduce the volume and the water pressure, where my rational brain ought to be. But, true to my mother's prophecy, I am only allowing that to happen where no one can see me…


© P. J. Oszmann (November 2007)

© Illustration created in Photoshop (November 2007)

Web Site: Jew Be or Not Jew Be  

Reader Reviews for "You'll cry where no one will see you."

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Reviewed by Connie Faust 9/19/2008
Thank you, Peter, for sharing this intimate story of heartaches with your readers. God bless you and comfort you in your loss.

Reviewed by Cryssa C 3/24/2008
What a heart wrenching story... filled with love, hope, anguish and heartache. I learned too late how much my mother truly meant to me, so I could readily relate to the first half of your story. The second half... I have no desire to relate to...:~) I love my husband dearly and have dread for the day that we will be separated in this life. I don't know what I would do without him...

Reviewed by Trevor Penick 1/3/2008
Perfect. I really enjoyed this, Pete. You have a touching way with words. Thanks for posting this.
Reviewed by Amira van Kerk 12/10/2007
I guess we all cry at places where nobody is around to see our tears - I blame it on our society. If you cry in public, show emotions, let others see how much you suffer this is NOT COOL ! We are supposed to be strong, be able to cope with whatever comes up, smile and be positive. It's a great life we have and negativity does not exist !

It's a good thing if you cry, even if you do this in your small room with the door closed. It will help you to overcome the pain and wash out your sorrow. Eventually you will not have tears anymore. You will be able to enjoy again: Life, your children, your friends, your daily's activities, your hobbies, food, the sunshine.

I pray that this time will come soon. Stay strong.

Reviewed by Julie Donner Andersen 12/4/2007
I am so sorry for your loss. This story is an outpouring of emotion,; thus, all who read it see the tears. You are not alone.

Reviewed by Keith Rowley 12/1/2007
Your courage is a blessing to all of us.

Heartfelt thanks, Peter.

Reviewed by Regis Auffray 12/1/2007
A deeply moving account, Peter. Thank you for sharing it. Love, peace, and healing to you,

Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 12/1/2007
O, Peter, this one ripped my heart out! Powerful, heartbreaking write; I can relate too well to this: my family often told both Karla and myself that we were worthless, that we'd never amount to anything, etc. They really didn't do anything to praise us. Years later, Karla and I still feel the pain of those hurtful words; every day is a battle for our self esteem, especially when things go wrong or don't go as planned~ You have penned a powerhouse of a story here; very well done! BRAVO!

Know you are ever in my thoughts and prayers!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in America, Karen Lynn in Texas. :( >tears! <

Books by
Peter J. Oszmann

Jew Be or Not Jew Be; The Story of a Perpetual Alien

Relationships Stories
1. Surreal Dummy--Still Here
2. R.I.P. nephew
3. Anniversary
4. Penelope and Peter bond; she enjoys a Cuba
5. Make Love Like A Poor Man
6. Lightening Bug Nights
7. Flight Response
8. a small safe vessel...
9. deaf and blind...
10. a reluctant letter (because I care)
11. Nomadic Heart
12. Working Together
13. Instead of...
14. The Weight On Women Hearts
15. You Didn't Want Me
16. He was my First, I was his Last
17. Reflections...
18. How the Russians came here (Novel) Forewor

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