Sadness and Boruto
14/06/23
I am sad today. And was yesterday, and the day before yesterday. I even cried. But then I saw the calendar and realized why-it is that time of the month. I also became aware of the reason for my sudden vicioness over chocolate and foul mood.
I am still felling down, but at least I know the feellings are being intensified by hormones and that I`m not really this sensitive. I almost cried again in class because of a poem! Also, my mom came back from her trip and brought me a little statue of Boruto (is made of clay) and when I was oppening I thought it was a Saint.
My parents also came home tonight with a cart full of my deceased gradma stuff from her apartament. It was strange to see this things again: the Jesus that used to hang up at the top of her door, the little trinkets and glass sculptures that stayed on top of her shelves, her paintings, the huge "Lord's Supper" frame that watched over the dinning room...
I usually don't like to think much about her death, mostly because it was the first time I lost someone close to me and also my first burial. It hurt a lot when she died even if we weren't very close due to me spending my childhood on another state. But it became better and now I just feel a little heartache when my parents talk about her. I think I was affected most because of my father-her son- and the fact that she was my only grandparent left, and the only one I knew.
I wrote this after the funeral:
Dad was not to the one to cry on school presentations or during a sad movie. He was the one who would make me laugh while cursing soccer players on the tv, or making a good joke. He would be mad at me sometimes, be disappointed, proud. But I never saw him cry. At least not before that day.
I wasn’t very close to my grandma, you see, given the fact that most of my childhood we lived in different states, far for each other. We would only spend time together during vacations or Christmas, but it was good. After some years, we moved to where she lived (she was getting old and more old as the years passed, and for my dad, phone calls weren’t enough anymore). So, we weren’t that close. But I guard these memories very dear to my heart. The time we received gifts when father would come home after traveling for visiting, the calls always ending with a blessing, the Sunday mornings with the church live, the funny show after dinner, the lunch we shared every Sunday, her cat who always rested on the same chair, the bed me and my cousins used to play in, the smell of her perfume, her paintings on the wall, the coolness of her shower, the going to the shopping, always supporting her arm.
These moments are nothing but memories now.
(It passed very quickly. It feels like it was just yesterday.)
I didn’t / don’t go to her apartment since she passed away. I didn’t saw her cat before he died too.
Her funeral was the first one I attended. I was sunny. My father was silent on the way to the cemetery. We all were.
…
I don’t remember if all of her children were there. I remember when she was being buried my father was the one who pleaded the workers to stop. He said to them to wait a little bit.
Just a little bit. He told them to calm down.
(Why would they want to make her leave so soon?)
He was the one who took out the fabric covering the glass above her face. Dad was the one who cried the hardest. Who had to hold the coffin cause he couldn’t stand any longer. I started crying with him too, I think every one did. It didn’t hit me until that very last moment. Dad was the one who said the last goodbye, the last ’i love you, mommy’. The one who held her until he couldn’t anymore.
After the funeral we went home. My mom was the driver now. He stayed in their bedroom until the other day.
It was very silent inside.
And then life continued.