I could not fully understand my mother’s reasoning, but I was determined to succeed in my mission. It might be the last and most important task I could undertake for her. She is slowly dying and although the hospice is gentle and comforting, she is anxious and I keep hearing her words, begging me to return.
“Please Lisa, darling, I don’t want strangers finding the box. I don’t want to ask your father. David has enough to worry about. Do it just for me.”
I had agreed, knowing I could not refuse her anything now. My father dutifully visits her every evening, bearing flowers his secretary buys for him. He is still fit and energetic in his 76th year. Although he is no longer a Minister, he is still working hard and soon he will be even more occupied once the second volume of his much anticipated autobiography, chronicling his controversial years in government and his role in Iran, is published. My brothers could go, but they both have demanding careers as doctors and both have strict wives, who would ask questions. I may not have been as successful professionally, but I am fortunate in having a sympathetic husband who understands the ebbs and flows of freelance work. It was obvious that I had to be the one to go and I had to go immediately before it was too late.
As I drove there through countryside bursting with the fresh green of spring, I kept wondering why my mother was so concerned about the capsule. I was sure it couldn’t hold anything controversial. Being children we had written silly notes and donated videos. The adults had given my mother sealed envelopes the morning after the dinner. But maybe Uncle Nick had contributed one of the ribald jokes we were not meant to hear or Aunt Sarah had maligned one of my father’s Party colleagues.
to be continued….