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Mehmet’s presence
Victor left this earth on the last day of June last year. He was alone, or no, not alone. He was with Mehmet, the gentle and deeply caring male nurse, former kickboxing champion of Turkey, and devout Muslim, that had been hired to help care for Victor in his sister’s home in Karaköy, Istanbul.
Mehmet protected Victor’s dignity. His mere presence placed a cushion around Victor that no one could trespass or dislodge. His ablutions five times a day, his recurring act of pressing his palms and forehead to the living room floor, brought a cadence of dignity and calm, and a kind of seriousness befitting the situation.
He spoke no English, but he and I discovered we could communicate via text message using Google translate. He sent me beautiful photos of Victor after I returned to California. Victor sitting beside the window with seagulls on the ledge. Victor draped in a blanket. Victor producing a wan smile. And toward the bitter end, painful photos of Victor incredibly gaunt, a mere skull floating.
It was only Mehmet at the end, as I’ve said. Victor, incredibly, decided the day before his death that if his son and granddaughter wouldn’t come to him, he would go to them. And go he did. He requested and was granted an ambulance to drive four hours south to a friend’s house on the coast, near his son’s house. He left his sister and her husband and the lovely Seycan…
