Amygdalia's Blog

Mourning a stranger

TRIGGER WARNING

It was nearly 4 years ago that I to traveled to Greece with my friend Liz. A few of our favorite memories surrounded 2 establishments we’d visited in Athens. One was a taverna, and the other was a jewelry shop.

We walked into the jewelry shop, and the charming proprietor greeted us with a friendly “hello! How many thousands of Euros would you like to spend today?” We laughed, and spent probably 45 minutes to an hour chatting with him. We met his wife and his adorable son, and the following day I went back to bring his son a package of gum (the only thing I had from the states that was unopened). We laughed, as the proprietor told me that he could buy the same package of gum at the periptero just outside the shop. Ah well. Liz and I returned once more, and each bought something special as a memento of our visit. Again, we spent a great deal of time talking with the shop owner.

When I planned a trip to Greece with Dr B for this past September, I was excited to visit the shop again. Even more exciting was the fact that Liz was joining us for a few days!

We wandered up Makrigiannis Street, looking for Emblem jewelry shop, only to find a sign that said they had moved. We took down the street address and moved on. I was excited to discover the following day that the street was in fact quite close by. But we could not quite find the shop. Until we walked past it for the 8th time, and finally saw it, right along the sidewalk we passed each day, as we walked from our hotel to Plaka! How exciting! In we went, and saw the proprietor’s wife. We exclaimed excitedly over how glad we were to have found the shop, and she told us that the rent on Makrigiannis Street had gotten too expensive, now that it was a pedestrian thoroughfare full mostly of touristy eateries. The new shop was smaller, but looked similar to the other. Her husband was not there. I promised to return when we had more time to look around.

This did not happen until after Liz had left. But I kept my promise and went back, seeing Susie once more. We chatted, and she asked whether I had talked with her or her husband the last time we’d been there. When I told her we’d spent quite a bit of time talking with her husband . . . she told me. He had died 2 years earlier. She did not come out and say it directly, but it was clear from the implication – he died suddenly, he was more tortured than she had realized – he had killed himself.

I don’t even remember his name . . . I believe it began with an M. But I was quite shaken up by her news. The smaller shop made even more sense now. She was doing this on her own. I felt obligated to purchase something from her. Not obligated, perhaps . . . she certainly did nothing to force me . . . but I would have felt horribly guilty if I had not spent some money in her shop. She did not have change, and so rather than accept the extra Euro I gave her, she instead gave me a small evil eye necklace that her husband had made. A very meaningful memento.

I was out of sorts for hours after Susie told me of her husband’s death. I did not truly know him, but I had some wonderful memories of our visit to his shop. And so I did mourn the loss.