i wrote this as an email to a friend, describing the events of February 28th, 2007. there's really not much else to say:
"this past week has been the most surreal experience i have ever lived.
over the past weeks, i saw my mom progressively lose her speech, she
stopped eating and drinking, she stopped waking for much of the day,
she entered a coma, and then, peacefully, stopped breathing. i prayed
with her and her body, when she was alive, so that she would rest, and
when she passed, so that she would once again be herself, up there,
where she belongs.
i had been praying for her rest, for her death, for months. her mind
was gone, her spirit was tired, and we all needed this stage of our
lives to end and a new one begin.
when it finally happened, though, i instantly entered a place from
where i have not come down, and i am flying, elevated, not really
understanding, and not really denying. i am not really feeling but i
am not really sheltered.
i no longer have parents who are alive, in the physical state we
usually associate with life. it feels strange, and awful, but also
great, because i'd rather not see them than have them the way they
were when they were ill.
i dont know how to explain it, but my initial feeling upon her death
was that of joy. it's time for me to stop being selfish, because even
though i wish my mom were here, hugging me, touching me with her
hands, leaving her scent in my room, and telling me how to get on, her
body was a jail for her soul. being bed-ridden, starved, confused;
that wasn't her. so i had to tell her it was ok to leave. and she
did. and she's better now, and i'll be fine too.
for now, i am giving everything the mirza matos effort, one foot
behind the other, and staring straight ahead into what's next."
