the same day that Emily shared with me his experience as a mother who greets her daughter leaving for Nepal, for a volunteer experience is not without its risks, I was called to another greeting no less painful and full of mixed emotions.
The woman who wrapped me in her womb when my mother's I was stolen forever, that made me be a mother in the most difficult years of my life, my tears wept sealed in chest pain, who fought with all his strength to tear a smile, that fascinated me with his stories and his memories of his wife and mother, left me for ever. Mother and grandmother at the same time but, above all, a woman with great fortitude, never willing to surrender if not the last moment, removing the oxygen mask because he knew that his heart was no longer right. Its always great and generous heart. He had stopped for ever and since then my tears have been holed up, once again, the chest pain.
When I read the mail Emanuela I wondered why this coincidence? I was called upon to interpret as a sign? Since then, images have begun to overlap, I cradled in them, with them I experienced the long hours waiting for burial. During the celebration in the Church, full of people attentive to the stages of the rite, I'm sitting still remained to watch the coffin in search of an answer, a meaning to everything.
For some time I went asking what was the secret of humanity, the keystone of this complex architecture called life. I could not believe how, in the face of continued wickedness of men, yet all would rule and the hope was never tamed.
gaze fixed on the coffin, images that flow like a screen. I cling to my mother last attempt to hold me, my grandmother with a lullaby that rocks me, Emily Martin, which leads to small shoulders and then squeezes and whispers the magic words for greeting, me stroking my hands cold Grandma, Baba that covers me in his innate motherhood, despite having had to give up to get one of his own. And then a thousand arms of women willing to preserve this great mystery: a woman and mother. Here the architrave I said, it was always before my eyes and I did not see it.
Thanks mom, thanks Grandma Baba thanks thanks thanks to you all Emanuela women who are called to guard this great gift and burden. Now it's up to me to make my part.
The woman who wrapped me in her womb when my mother's I was stolen forever, that made me be a mother in the most difficult years of my life, my tears wept sealed in chest pain, who fought with all his strength to tear a smile, that fascinated me with his stories and his memories of his wife and mother, left me for ever. Mother and grandmother at the same time but, above all, a woman with great fortitude, never willing to surrender if not the last moment, removing the oxygen mask because he knew that his heart was no longer right. Its always great and generous heart. He had stopped for ever and since then my tears have been holed up, once again, the chest pain.
When I read the mail Emanuela I wondered why this coincidence? I was called upon to interpret as a sign? Since then, images have begun to overlap, I cradled in them, with them I experienced the long hours waiting for burial. During the celebration in the Church, full of people attentive to the stages of the rite, I'm sitting still remained to watch the coffin in search of an answer, a meaning to everything.
For some time I went asking what was the secret of humanity, the keystone of this complex architecture called life. I could not believe how, in the face of continued wickedness of men, yet all would rule and the hope was never tamed.
gaze fixed on the coffin, images that flow like a screen. I cling to my mother last attempt to hold me, my grandmother with a lullaby that rocks me, Emily Martin, which leads to small shoulders and then squeezes and whispers the magic words for greeting, me stroking my hands cold Grandma, Baba that covers me in his innate motherhood, despite having had to give up to get one of his own. And then a thousand arms of women willing to preserve this great mystery: a woman and mother. Here the architrave I said, it was always before my eyes and I did not see it.
Thanks mom, thanks Grandma Baba thanks thanks thanks to you all Emanuela women who are called to guard this great gift and burden. Now it's up to me to make my part.
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