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Kolumni

Letter Home

2.2.2010 00:00
MaryNurminen

Kirjoittajan kolumnit

From a field hospital somewhere in Karelia. Summer, 1944.

Dear Hannu, I'm lying here in a field hospital 'somewhere out there', and I don't think I'll be seeing you again. You'll also notice that this isn't my handwriting, it is being written by one of the nurses here who is very patient in writing down what I want to say. She has to be because I can only talk very slowly, writing myself would be impossible.

In fact I am thinking I will be seeing my last living days here in this hellish 'hospital'. And I wanted to get a message to you.

We never really knew each other, you and I. We were born on either side of a generation, with too many years between us to make us close. We grew up in the same family but in 2 different worlds.

By the time I was old enough to remember anything, you had already left home to go study. I saw you for a short time on your vacations, but there was so much work we never had time to talk. I only knew what I heard Mom and Dad say about you.

And before I was old enough to understand what a brother could be, you were off to the war. You stopped by for only that one afternoon on your way to the front. After that there were just a few visits, on your way to the city to work, and a year or 2 after that, on your way back to the war.

But finally you came home to stay. It wasn't the happy homecoming everyone hoped for - you were coming after a long stay in a hospital, and you were coming with only 1 leg. But you were coming to stay and that was enough.

At the same time I was getting ready to leave. I was old enough by then to be sent to the same places you had seen. Mom and Dad managed to be happy for the little they were given: one short weekend to have us there together.

That first night I meant to just leave after we had our sauna. I thought I'd go back up to the big house and leave you in peace in your own little cabin. I had the door open already before you called me back.

I guess I'll never know what made you call me back. You could have so easily let me go, back to my own life and reality, and leave our brotherhood to be the distant relation it always had been. Maybe you did it because you knew where I was going and what could happen.

So you called me back, told me to sit down, and gave me a drink. Then you said, 'This is ridiculous, we hardly know each other. Now you're going to stay here and we're going to talk.'

And we talked until early the next morning. We spent most of the next day talking and had another long sauna, a few drinks, and more talk that evening. I finally got to hear about your life, your dreams, what it was like when you were at school and at work, and what it was like in the war.

I told you about life at home without you, growing up feeling lonely a lot of the time, about school and Irina Jutila, who I thought was the prettiest girl at school even though she barely noticed me.

We found out that we think the same about a lot of things. We laughed that hilarious look Dad gets on his face when he's mad, how Mom gets so nervous if you don't eat enough at dinner…those little things you talk about with brothers.

We had only those 2 days to be real brothers, but they were days I wouldn't give up for anything. They were the best days of my life.

And now in my last few days or maybe hours of that life, I wanted to make sure to tell you this: My brother, I am happy to have known you.

Toivo.

Mary Nurminen juhlii 20:ttä vuottaan Suomessa kirjoittamalla sarjaa suomalaisten perusolemuksesta.

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