They have gone…
And the house has fallen silent,
As if even the walls
Can feel their absence.
Xhuli Spahiu
Prof. Dr. Xhulfere Spahija (Xhuli) born on 04.11.1969, in Breznica. Lives and works in Gjilan (Kosovo). Xhuli is the author of two books on psychology, the terms Positive Thinking and Love for Life. She is an activist and world-renowned for her divine deeds in the mission of human rights and Peace-Love and Prosperity for humanity. Honored with certificates of honor, gold certificates and excellence at the same time she was honored with the highest award Icon of Peace through messages and books that she distributes every day to readers around the world following with much love that she brings even from a distance.
They Have Gone
They have gone…
And the house has fallen silent,
As if even the walls
Can feel their absence.
For a little while,
My home was filled with life—
With the voices of my children,
The laughter of my grandchildren,
With little footsteps
That awakened my soul
And brought peace to my heart.
I had them close to me,
And for a while,
Distance and exile felt far away…
I did not count the days,
I counted the moments.
Every morning was a joy,
Every evening a blessing,
Every embrace a treasure
I never wanted to lose.
But the holidays came to an end…
And that day arrived—
The day no mother ever wishes to face.
They have gone.
The suitcases were packed,
The goodbyes lasted longer than usual,
And my eyes tried to smile,
Even as my heart was breaking.
I waved goodbye,
But they took a piece of my soul with them.
Now,
The house is still the same,
But the voices are gone.
The toys are still there,
But little hands no longer touch them.
The door opens and closes,
Yet I still wait
To hear:
“Mom…”
And the tears fall on their own…
I do not ask why,
Because I am a mother.
A mother never truly gets used to goodbyes.
She only learns
To smile through her tears,
To wait with longing,
And to keep every last embrace
Safe within her heart.
They have gone…
But their love
Has remained here,
In every corner of this home,
In every beat of my heart.
And I will wait.
Because mothers
Know how to wait for as long as it takes…
When, at the end of that waiting,
There is an embrace
Called my child.
***
Ata shkuan
Ata shkuan…
dhe shtëpia mbeti më e heshtur,
sikur edhe muret
e ndjenë boshllëkun e tyre.
Për pak kohë,
shtëpia ime u mbush me jetë.
Me zërat e fëmijëve,
me të qeshurat e nipave e mbesave,
me hapa të vegjël
që më zgjonin shpirtin
dhe ma qetësonin zemrën.
I kisha pranë,
dhe mërgimi dukej larg…
Nuk numëroja ditët,
por çastet.
Çdo mëngjes ishte gëzim,
çdo mbrëmje një bekim,
çdo përqafim një pasuri
që s’doja ta humbisja.
Por pushimet mbaruan…
dhe erdhi ajo ditë
që një nënë nuk do ta donte kurrë.
Ata shkuan.
Valixhet u mbyllën,
përqafimet u zgjatën më shumë se zakonisht,
e sytë e mi
u munduan të buzëqeshin
edhe pse zemra po thyhej.
I përcolla me dorë,
por shpirtin ma morën me vete.
Tani,
shtëpia është po ajo,
por zërat mungojnë.
Lodrat janë aty,
por duart e vogla nuk i prekin.
Dera hapet e mbyllet,
por unë pres ende
të dëgjoj:
“Nanë…”
Dhe loti rrjedh vetvetiu…
Nuk e pyes pse,
sepse jam nënë.
Nëna nuk mësohet me ikjet.
Ajo vetëm mëson
të buzëqeshë mes lotëve,
të presë me mall
dhe të ruajë në zemër
çdo përqafim të fundit.
Ata shkuan…
por dashuria e tyre
mbeti këtu,
në çdo cep të shtëpisë,
në çdo rrahje të zemrës sime.
Dhe unë do të pres.
Sepse nënat
dinë të presin gjatë…
kur pas pritjes
është një përqafim
që quhet fëmija im.
________________
