Lives of courage, resilience, and the will to endure

THE MILL

I’m looking after this mill in the summer and selling my little things. I’m not paid to be here; I asked to be here. This way, I earn a little money and see people.

I never married, I always lived with my parents, and I was their caregiver until they died. When my mother passed away, I was very shaken, even sick. I had already had cancer about 12 years ago. I had a large part of my intestines removed, and at that time, when I left the hospital, I stayed at my sister’s house for a month.

I always tried to hide the seriousness of the disease from my mother. I went back home, but she couldn’t do anything, not even wash herself. I did everything for her. Even so, when she passed away, I was devastated and fell into a deep depression.

At one point, during one of the treatments, they told me I needed gallbladder surgery. After the operation, I developed a serious infection. For three weeks, I was dying. Once again, a sister took me in. I was extremely weak and just wanted to lie down. It was the worst thing ever.

When I started to recover, on my own, I remembered this closed mill. Before, they used to pay people to be here, but the crisis took over everything. So I offered to come here without being paid. I like to do small lacework, I put my little things here to sell – I’ve already brought my grapes – and people can see the inside of the mill. I don’t speak any languages, but I still know how to give a welcoming smile. The mill has done me a lot of good!

Now I feel stronger. I come home and still take care of my vegetable garden, because when I was 11 I used to go to the fields with my parents. I learned everything from them.

I never experienced love. I had no shortage of suitors, but I never wanted to leave my parents. My father also had a very serious illness that attacked his head, and he died without a drop of blood. Because of him, I never slept in the morning; he was a good perso,n but very demanding. My mother was also always very ill.

Today I regret the choices I made, because I like children, I don’t have any, and I find myself alone at 75. A nursing home awaits me!

I think I was wrong to never think about myself. I opened my eyes too late.

I remember the words of a priest: “We should be good, but not nice!”

MHB