It all happened so quickly. From the moment we got off the plane you could feel the tightness in the air and the sorrow and grief in everyone’s hearts. It was as if the entire country was in mourning. When we arrived at la sala de velorio there were about a 3 dozen people sitting in the pews facing the box. Some of them I hadn’t seen in years and others I’d never met. Tight embraces and quiet sobs replaced our hellos and introductions. No words were needed; we were bound by the same grief.
As we walked in everyone made a beeline for the box. They stepped up and peered over. Some peeked over in out of curiosity; while other cried and wailed uncontrollably for Diosito to bring her back. I wasn’t surprised he stepped up to the box; after all she was his sister. He put his glasses on and examined her every detail from her hair down to her shoes. But surprisingly he didn’t cry.
I couldn’t bring myself to step up to the box. Why would I want to see a desiccated physical form of who she was? I wanted to keep in my mind and heart an image of her that truly embodied her spirit. When I close my eyes I can still see her sitting at the kitchen table sharing a drink with me. I can still smell her perfume of home remedies, a concoction of agua bendita y herbitas.
We shared a connection I can’t explain. She felt my thought and dreamt my dreams. She loved me. And she knew I loved her before I did. Sometimes I would find her sitting alone staring blankly out at nothing; her deep eyes red and watery. It could have been my naiveté or my emotional midgetry, but I could never bring myself to ask her what was wrong or dare to lend her any consoling words. To be honest, her emotions scared; my emotions scared me. Instead, I just sat there; listening and hoping that in my silence I could share and alleviate her pain. Maybe all she needed was to hear me say I love you, but I never did. I just couldn’t.
And that’s why I feel so frustrated! I wish we could have shared more, talked more! There’s so much I wish I could have said and done. I’m older now! I could have provided her the emotional support she needed when she sat there alone. Why couldn't I get over my own stuff to be there for her?! I was being selfish.
In retrospect, I can admit it was really my frustration and selfishness that kept me from stepping up to the box. People say that mourning death is a selfish act. But mourning is also very normal and necessary.
