I Carry a Horror in My Heart
Memories of the day Carlos died tormented me last night. I was trying to hold on to the details and emotions we felt on that 21st of December last year. I can’t wait to get to my session today. It is three hours from now.
I walk to Dos Escudos, my second home. The idea of being around other people suits me well at this moment; I welcome any distraction from the stabbing of my memories.
Martín, the male server, is playful, but today I don’t feel playful so I keep on minding my own business.
Suffice it to say that at the end of the day Carlos died, I was grateful that my daughter was the one holding me at the very moment that my life was exploding into a million pieces. Never had I lived through such helplessness. Protected by her arm around me, we went back upstairs in very slow motion as I repeated to myself:
He won’t be here tonight to kiss goodnight.
We will not have our bear hug in the morning.
This world will be sad without his sunny smile.
This was the end of my life, as I had known it.
Contained during Dr Novelli’s session I walk out in very slow motion repeating to myself:
Everything has changed ever since the day Carlos died.
Only my love for him has remained intact.
I loved him in life, and I love him in death.
Our shared love story ended that day.
It is gone from the world. It continues inside my heart.
