One day it all goes to shit. I'm sorry for that. It must be the first time I've explicitly expressed an expletive since I've been writing on HIVE but this particular post touches a nerve... And the most common way of expressing what I feel, at least initially, is anger... This is a story of truly regrettable and personal pain... It is the moment, from that purple day, after my mother's death when I knew what true loneliness is....
Almost three years have passed since that day. May 2022, on the same date in this 2025 it will be three years since my mother's departure.... The process of her departure was far worse than the loss itself... To witness at first hand how the being who gave you showers as a child, and who kissed your forehead in the evenings, and sometimes in the afternoons, for no reason other than love, was dying, little by little, deteriorating, and becoming unrecognisable is something that is more than traumatic.
Sometimes, out of absolute nothingness, memories assault my tranquillity in the most savage way that can be described.... And it's not because they are particularly violent or unpleasant, but because I remember her smile, you know? I think you can all agree with me on something.... When you see mum smiling, the world is just perfect, don't you agree? Today, Friday, (in Venezuela it's still Friday) I decided to write this, in this community because it's something I can't talk about with anyone else.
I'm someone who sees weakness in tears. I know it's wrong, I know I'm the wrong one, I'm aware of it but it's my defence mechanism. I am a lonely girl, and through pain, loneliness and resisting the humiliations and blows of life I have survived. I don't see myself writing to anyone or calling anyone to come and hug me or comfort me, no.... I insist, to be more normative and common but I come with this ‘flaw’ from the factory. Back to my memories... My mother and her faces and expressions are in my mind every day of my vis since I don't have her by my side anymore...
Sometimes I look at the sofa where we used to smoke and talk and sometimes it destroys me... I don't cry. I just breathe in a little and carry on, head held high. ‘The show must go on’ would say the genius of Mercury.... Today, (Friday) I woke up unusually early, before the first rays of the sun at dawn. I make a cup of coffee and go out into the garden to look at the sky, what colour was the start of this day? Oh yes, purple.... Mum's colour, the hue of the day I knew the depth of pain and the size of loneliness most impossible to satiate.... Strangely enough, they say that grief is never overcome, but that we adapt... In my case, it is an act of great pain and living it strictly. I would like to believe that she knows that I always have her in my mind, oh mummy...
