¡Feliz día para todos!
Hoy, amigos, les quiero compartir unos de los sucesos más espeluznantes que ha marcado mi vida, a través de un relato.¡Buu!🫨
-Dos años ya han pasado del fallecimiento de mi padre, y aún me parece mentira que ya no vaya entrar por esa puerta con su cigarro en la mano, y su sonrisa contagiosa que podía alegrar el día más nublado.
Me decía con mis ojos opacos, al recibir una llamada de un operador del Cementerio
que informaba que al día siguiente, tendría lugar la exhumación de su cuerpo.
-Ay Diane, no creo que seas capaz de observar sus restos, ¿te imaginas que esa imagen se te quede grabada en vez de su rostro reluciente?.
No lo observaré, no no, aunque incumpla la tradición de la familia, de el adiós presencial, ese pequeño ritual donde se leen unas palabras a los restos mientras la familia se encuentra expectante.
Amanece y con mi semblante hinchado con ojeras, por los continuos llantos nocturnos de nostalgia, me dirigí al cementerio, aquel lugar de innumerables tumbas blancas, que en cada visita mi piel se tornaba helada.
-Diane hermana, ¿estás bien?, ayer me cogió de sorpresa tu mensaje de la exhumación, ya tía Melva y Gloria llegaron, y Yuli está dentro buscando los sepultureros para sacar el ataúd,¡ ah mira por ahí vienen!.
Guiada por mis hermanos, tías y sepultureros, me adentré en el extenso cementerio , hasta llegar a la tumba de mi padre, dónde comenzamos a revivir gratos recuerdos a su lado, mientras con palas y picos los sepultureros hacían su trabajo.
-Familia, ya hemos sacado el ataúd, ahora lo llevaremos sobre aquella mesa para abrirlo y que el especialista proceda a recoger los huesos que irán en el nicho de su familia.
Reprimiendo mi llanto, le consulté a mi familia que no participaría en su ritual, para conservar mi recuerdo de su imagen intacta.
-¡Tranquila Diane, te comprendemos!, espéranos aquí, nosotros vamos con el especialista.¡ Aprovecha y despídete de él!
Aquellas palabras consolaron mi corazón, aunque un nudo se me hizo en mi garganta al ver alejarse a mi familia, y ver como los sepultureros comenzaron a levantar aquel ataúd para trasladarlo, sobre el que tantas palabras de amor declamé.
-¡Diane, no me tengas miedo!
Un susurro unido a un aire frío comenzó a invadir mis pensamientos.
-¿Disculpen, dijeron algo?
Expresé extrañada a los sepultureros que levantaban el ataúd.
-¡No joven, debe ser el agotamiento, que le juega malos pasajes a sus pensamientos!
Replicaron los trabajadores, con el ataúd en brazos.
-¡Mírame! Nuevamente el susurro pero más fuerte captó mi atención, he hizo, que buscara una explicación sensata deteniendo el paso e interrogando a los sepultureros con tono de desconfianza.
-¿Cual de ustedes dijo:Mírame?,¡ no creo que broméen con los difuntos!
-¿ Cómo creé señorita?,¡ somos humanos ,sabemos el dolor que carga!
Expresaron con semblantes de estrañeza los sepultureros, semblantes, que se pusieron tan pálidos como el mío, al yo no habiendo terminado de exclamar :- ¿ Si no fueron ustedes, de quién proviene el susurro?, y un estruendo de la tapa inferior del ataúd contra el sendero, dejaba a la vista los restos de mi padre.
-¡De mi, hija!.....
Amigos, espero que les haya gustado esta historia y generado pequeños escalofríos.Les deseo a todos una excelente e inspiradora semana.¡Abrazos!
Escritos propios.
Imagen resultada en CreArt.
Happy day to everyone!
Today, friends, I want to share some of the most horrifying events that have marked my life, through a story.Boo!🫨
-Two years have already passed since my father's death, and it still seems a lie to me that I'm no longer going to walk through that door with his cigar in his hand, and his infectious smile that could brighten up the cloudiest day.
I was saying with my dull eyes, when I received a call from a Cemetery operator
he informed that the next day, the exhumation of his body would take place.
-Oh Diane, I don't think you'll be able to observe his remains, can you imagine that image being engraved on you instead of his shining face?.
I will not observe it, no no, even if it violates the family tradition of the in-person farewell, that little ritual where a few words are read to the remains while the family is expectant.
Dawn is breaking and with my face swollen with dark circles, due to the continuous night cries of nostalgia, I went to the cemetery, that place of innumerable white graves, that at each visit my skin turned icy cold.
-Diane sister, are you okay?, yesterday I was surprised by your message about the exhumation, already Aunt Melva and Gloria arrived, and Yuli is inside looking for the gravediggers to take out the coffin, oh look they are coming that way!.
Guided by my brothers, aunts and gravediggers, I entered the extensive cemetery, until I reached my father's grave, where we began to relive pleasant memories by his side, while with shovels and picks the gravediggers did their work.
-Family, we have already taken out the coffin, now we will take it on that table to open it and have the specialist proceed to collect the bones that will go in the niche of your family.
Suppressing my crying, I consulted my family that I would not participate in his ritual, in order to keep my memory of his image intact.
-Relax Diane, we understand you!, wait for us here, we are going to the specialist. Take advantage and say goodbye to him!
Those words comforted my heart, although a lump formed in my throat when I saw my family walking away, and saw how the gravediggers began to lift that coffin to move it, about which I declaimed so many words of love.
-Diane, don't be afraid of me!
A whisper joined to a cold air began to invade my thoughts.
-Excuse me, did you say something?
I expressed surprise to the gravediggers who were lifting the coffin.
-No young man, it must be exhaustion, which plays bad passages to your thoughts!
The workers replied, with the coffin in their arms.
-Look at me! Again the whisper but louder caught my attention, he made me look for a sensible explanation by stopping the step and questioning the gravediggers with a tone of distrust.
-Which one of you said, Look at me?, I don't think they joke with the deceased!
-How did I create señorita?,we are human, we know the pain you carry!
The gravediggers expressed with strange countenances, countenances that turned as pale as mine, when I had not finished exclaiming:- If it wasn't you, from whom does the whisper come?, and a crash of the lower lid of the coffin against the footpath, left my father's remains in plain sight.
-From me, daughter!.....
Friends, I hope you liked this story and it generated little chills.I wish you all an excellent and inspiring week.Hugs!
Own writings.
Image result in CreArt.
