By: Ivan Stanković
There are people who choose to remain in the shadows, to shine goodness, to selflessly help others, to understand them, to take care of them, to raise them when they fall, and to heal with their love.
They choose never to put themselves first. They show you that you can always rely on them. They choose to be there when you need them, as your angels of mercy.
Quiet, unobtrusive, modest – they have a huge heart, and a warm and deep soul. They are always full of positive energy, which they selflessly share. You immediately feel better when you see them.
Those are the ones who don’t like to be spoken about. They hide their worries and problems deep inside themselves, not wanting you to be burdened by them.
This is something that cannot be learned. You are either born with it, or you will never have it.
And you will never be like Mira Pejovic, whom I, some thirty years ago, accidentally, but it turned out intuitively, dubbed Aunt. Because being a good aunt was the essence of her being. And she accepted that nickname wholeheartedly – and so did other people who saw her in that same way.
She was the good spirit of the advertising scene in Serbia, a person who bears great credit for my seventeen year partnership with Saki. She, who countless times calmed Saki’s and mines raging ego trips, loving us honestly and believing that we are a great tandem. Sometimes she believed it even more than we did.
She was the good angel for all the people who went through the iconic Hilandarska 14. She was their therapist, counselor, confessor, friend. She was a shoulder to cry on, a wise person with simple life tips: be good, don’t do and don’t think evil.
She played a major role in the golden era of Saatchi – so great that a unique and special job post was created just for her – Aunt.
When Saki and I split ways, she chose to stay with him. But she didn’t “drop” me from her care. She took care of me and my family. She was a friend of my mother, of Maja, Selena, and Leo, and she kept a close eye on us, never missing a single birthday.
She was among the first to read and give a green light for Kakodalogija, a book that spoke of many untold and delicate things from the Saatchi era.
It’s still hard for me to believe she is gone. Even though I knew that her days were numbered, two days before her death, while getting ready to go to the hospital, she called me to check something. Both of us pretended as if we didn’t know that metastases had destroyed the organism. She said she was going “for a pinch of radiation” to the hospital, and that she would call when she’s out. When I asked her if she needed something, she repeated the same answer as always: “Hundred thousand euros.” And I, as always, replied “You got it.” She was cheerful, though she had trouble speaking, but she never said a word about herself. She asked about Maja, about my mother, kids… as always, she was more concerned for others than herself.
Life will go on, but I will miss her greatly. Same as she will be missed by the host of people whom she graced with her kindness. Because she was the one and only Aunt!
