
I’m still thinking of you on the ferry… We’ve had a hard life.
Yes, Kenan has a house, his family is from here and well-off. Ege too, more or less.
But after your father, I was left both sick and broke. And London — with two kids and only two thousand dollars — you can imagine the struggle. Later, with my father’s help, I bought a house and went into debt.
Meanwhile, your father owed me a lot in alimony, but I didn’t have the strength to fight him for it — I was just working like a mule to get by day to day.
Then, when my father said he’d helped me with the house, your father contributed a small amount during his good financial days — that’s all!
We came to Istanbul for vacation one summer; my father said, “Stay,” so we stayed — first Kınalı, then Cihangir.
I found a job at a company in the position my father wanted for me. Everything seemed fine — he said we’d go to London from time to time.
Then came the unexpected tragedy: my father had prostate surgery, and within a week he died from the anesthesia.
Everything collapsed. I was left to handle his factory, the workers, and paying severance to long-time employees — some had been there 35 years. We sold the factory and its assets at a loss, and only a small amount was left to the three of us.
At the same time, I had to quit my job and go back to London. Because I couldn’t keep up with the monthly payments, the bank took the house. If my father had still been alive, the payments would have continued.
So there we were again — broke and without a home.
This time, I went into restaurant work, where I could earn a bit more. My first job was at Bilsak in Cihangir.
You were in school then — nothing from your father, even though I heard he was doing well financially at that time.
My whole struggle was about keeping us going, just managing.
Then you went to Boston. I was still working.
I met Zaven — you know the rest — we lived together in Beylerbeyi, and then we bought the house on the island together about 15 years ago.
I retired first, about four years ago, and then Zaven — my son.
That’s the summary.
Now we’re trying to live on my pension in this economic crisis, with property tax, club fees, environmental taxes, most things on installments or credit cards.
As you can see, my son, I was never rich — I only lived by working.
Now all I have left is this house, because most of my life wasn’t spent here, and since there’s no family wealth, this is the result.
But thank God, I’m still standing, still by your side, still behind you.
I trust you, I believe in you — you will get through these hard times.
I know that my struggles began when you were very young, and under those conditions, I couldn’t have been a perfect mother to you.
I made many mistakes, I had many shortcomings, but I always tried — as much as I could.
I love you very much, my dear, my only son.
I’m 82 now, thank God I still have my mind, I’m still standing, by your side, behind you.
I have endless respect for your art, and I believe that soon you’ll have a new job and a wonderful new relationship.
You’re always in my prayers — and Fifty too, I hope she gets better.

That’s why I never understood why Tacha, even though she’s an only child too, never seemed to understand you or appreciate how much you did for her. She’s always treated you badly — I still can’t make sense of it.
And I never blamed you for anything.
I started working in high school anyway… I’ve taken care of myself since then.
Kenan and Ege — their families were well-off, life was always easier for them.
But after all these years, our situations are just different — we’ll keep fighting with what we have.
I never expected anything from you, Mom… I know your situation very well, and I know you’re doing everything you can.
If it weren’t for you, there’d be no one checking in, asking, or caring.
I just wish I had been more successful by this age, that I could’ve supported you and Zaven instead.
But you know… my artist soul never really allowed that.
For years I worked in advertising out of necessity — but always unhappily.
Anyway, let me take care of these current things first…
Then I’ll find a job, don’t worry.
I love you so much, Mom.
I’m so grateful you’re in my life.
Please don’t be sad.
Love you.
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