The Grave Between Us
Some people are meant to be together—even if fate has other plans.
In February 2016 my mother, Liza, who was 26 years old, and my uncle, Andria, 25, went on a vacation to Bakuriani with their friends. Liza decided to try skiing for the first time in her life. She had been to Bakuriani before but had never dared to ski. Let’s leave that story for another time; otherwise, this one will become too long.
So, where were we? Ah, yes! She stood on the skis, ready to go down the children’s slope when she suddenly got very scared. And she wasn’t the type of person to be afraid of such things—after all, she had once crossed the Dashbashi Canyon on a zipline.
Zura, standing behind her, tried to tease her with a little push, which only intensified her fear.
“Someone hold my hand and come down with me!” Liza pleaded.
“I have better things to do,” Zura laughed.
“I’ll hold your hand, and we can go down together,” a voice said out of nowhere.
Liza turned to see a tall, handsome young man. He was about 190 cm tall, with dark brown eyes, a deep husky voice, and a charming smile that seemed to put everyone at ease.
“Oh, it’s okay, no need to bother yourself,” Liza replied.
“It’s no bother at all. Just take my hand, and when you’re ready, we’ll go down together,” he insisted.
She looked back at her friends, and when they signaled that it was okay, she took the stranger’s hand and skied down with him. It went surprisingly well—they laughed and had a great time.
“I’ve never skied before. As a child, my mom used to take me to the ice rink instead,” Liza admitted.
“That’s great! I, on the other hand, am terrible at ice skating. Maybe you could teach me sometime?”
“I’d be happy to try,” Liza smiled.
“By the way, I’m Vaja,” he introduced himself.
“I’m Liza. Nice to meet you,” she said as they shook hands and exchanged Instagram handles, promising to go ice skating together soon.
A few days later…
“You’re already here?” Vaja asked.
“Yeah, I’m here. Let me help you. We’ll start by walking on the ice from the side, and once you get used to it, we’ll move to the center.”
“You know you have to hold my hand, right?” Vaja smirked.
“No problem,” Liza laughed, reaching out her hand.
Vaja stumbled multiple times, making Liza secretly giggle, though he didn’t notice why.
Eventually, Vaja introduced Liza to his friends.
“These are my friends: Tornike, Saba, Nino, and Goga.”
“Nice to meet you all,” Liza greeted.
“Nice to meet you too!” they replied.
“Okay, I’ll try a lap on my own. You take a break in the meantime,” Vaja said before wobbling off around the rink.
As soon as he was out of earshot, one of Vaja’s friends leaned in.
“It’s obvious he really likes you. I don’t understand why he’s torturing himself like this.”
Liza burst into laughter.
“I knew from the beginning that he already knew how to skate. I just played along to see how far he’d go.”
When Vaja returned, she and his friends pretended not to have been talking about him.
“So, did you have fun?” Vaja asked.
“Yes, it was great! Your friends are really fun too,” Liza replied.
Then, unexpectedly, Vaja asked, “Liza, I know this might sound sudden, but… do you have a boyfriend?”
“No.”
“Then, would you mind if I invited you to dinner tonight? We don’t have much time, so maybe we could get to know each other better.”
“I’d love to.”
“Great! I’ll come pick you up later then.”
“Okay, I’ll be waiting.”
That Evening
As Liza finished getting ready, she received a message from Vaja that he had arrived. Peeking out of the window, she was startled to see a black Mercedes G-Class parked outside. She hadn’t expected him to be that wealthy, and for a moment, she hesitated. But with her friend Mariam’s encouragement, she decided to go.
The dinner went well. They got to know each other better, and their mutual attraction grew stronger. Their relationship progressed quickly, as if they were made for each other. Before long, they got married. A year later, I, Luka, was born.
Years Later…
At 55, my mother passed away without telling anyone she was sick. She refused treatment, telling her doctor that she had seen her grandchild and had nothing left to live for.
For five days, she lay in our home, as is our tradition, and people came to pay their respects. Friends, relatives, even acquaintances—everyone who had known her came to say their final goodbyes. They brought flowers, whispered prayers, and wept for her. The house was filled with the sound of quiet sobs and the smell of incense and fresh-cut lilies.
My father was inconsolable. He sat beside her, barely speaking, barely eating. He had lost the woman he had once betrayed, the woman who had once loved him with all her heart but had never forgiven him.
And then, on the third day, a stranger came. A man I had never seen before.
He had dark hair and deep, almost black eyes, yet his features were light, as if softened by kindness. He wasn’t that tall, but there was something gentle about him, something that made people instinctively trust him.
He stood over my mother’s body, his hands trembling as he reached out to touch her hair one last time. His lips quivered as he whispered something I couldn’t hear.
Then, his voice broke as he spoke:
“I’m sorry I was late. You promised me you wouldn’t leave before me. I thought you’d be happier without me. Don’t worry… I’ll be with you soon.”
I later learned he was my mother’s first love.
On the seventh day, after the funeral rites were completed, we took my mother to her final resting place.
My father visited her grave every single day, kneeling before the cold stone, whispering words of regret, of sorrow, of the love that once burned between them but had long turned to ash.
Seasons changed, years passed, and I visited her only on holidays, bringing flowers, speaking softly to the wind, hoping she could still hear me.
Then, one day, I noticed a new grave beside hers. The soil was still fresh, the flowers still fragrant. My breath caught in my throat as I read the name.
It was him.
The man who had come on the third day.
He had fulfilled his promise. He had reunited with her after death.
The wind howled through the trees, and for a brief moment, I imagined their souls finally finding each other—no longer bound by time, no longer burdened by pain.
Just two spirits, together at last, where no betrayal, no regret, no sorrow could ever touch them again.
