On June 1st, my mother complished six years old since she took to the skies. I'm sure that since she left, it's the first time that I don't dedicate a few words to her, neither in my blog, nor in my social networks. And it's not that I've forgotten her or that I've forget this painful day, but that the tears was accompanied me all day long. I thought about writing something, but I knew that nothing I said resembled the sad feelings that were squeezing my throat, stealing my breath.
It was a day when sadness tucked me in all day long; a day when tears came like torrents from my soul, pooling in my eyes and running down my broken soul.
I don't think these scars ever heal. We just learn to live with them, just leave them there. From time to time we put a bandage on it, when the memories come back and the pain takes its toll on our heart.
These days, sitting in the garden of my house with a cup of coffee for company, I admired the sky and its orange hues and felt the need to capture that moment through the lens of my cell phone.
Impossible to ignore skies like this.
This brought back endless memories full of tenderness. Without realizing it, I moved to those days when my mother was on this earthly plane and used to lie down in the hammock when the sunset came, accompanied by a cool and gentle breeze.
I will never forget her dreamy eyes and her long lethargic sighs.
Remembering perhaps his time when he used to travel the world. Remembering perhaps, his hard and sad childhood and thanking, of that I am sure, his beautiful marriage to my dad, his children and all the learning throughout his life.
And I am left with that look, with that smile, that in spite of her long and painful illness in the last years of her life, never disappeared from her face, just as her desire to continue living did not disappear either, but her little body could not take any more.
Today I look at the sky and a smile escapes my lips because she is an important part of that smile.
That is what I will always remember about her.