Tonight i can write the saddest lines.
Write for example " i am he who suffered a triple death and survived a thousand blows."
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Death abounds me. None of the things i’ve written will level with the grief i am feeling.
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"She was a woman of the house" this is how i come to remember her. My mind, reaching up to more than two decades of vague recollections, those brief encounters i’ve had with my Tita Baby.
It’s her, bent over, head held close to the electric fan while raking her disheveled hair to dry and nervoulsy muttering insrtuctions to herself than to anyone around her.
Even this last lingering image of her seemed vague and imaginary. All my life it seemed as if i’ve only known her for 10 seconds, this minute image somehow vanished with the sound of a coin that dropped on the floor that same instant, enough to drown the memory into oblivion. Till then i’ts as if nothing existed between her and me. Even up to now when i struggle to recall that brief 10 seconds, my thoughts seemed paralyzed as i remember nothing.
i thought i never knew and will never get to define her position in my life. That for the entire time we’ve been apart i will tend to forget her and that it will take an odd moment before she remembers me.
However, a phone call or a greeting card helps to retrace this lost connection.
Her death evokes an indeterminate feeling: there is pain that inpires tears and utter resignation to the irrevocable and there is of course ineffable joy for her eternal repose. The measures for survival from Crohn’s disease seemed almost too cruel for her.
Her passing which somehow amputated my senses reveals that there is nothing; no land nor ocean that separates me from her. Her death is her freedom from earthly sufferings and a confirmation of my unacknowledged affection for her.
Tonight we will storm the heavens to bouy you up to where it is better, where you won’t suffer, sans the evil . . . . till the next encounter.
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I KNOW I AM NOT DEAD. I’M ONLY FORGOTTEN.
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another form of death. Never never. No more November.
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December 14, 2007
…and yet you are very much alive to me. What’s triple death to everlasting joy, everlasting love, and everlasting life, anyway? Be strong, dear… you too are loved. =)