Too close to the death of my mom and a good friend to be interested in entertain myself writing a ghoulish story. Death has called recently people I loved, and my soul is bleeding quietly.
It’s strange, I’ve spent the last five years taking care of my mom and I came to thought that when she died, I would fall apart. She needed me because of her illness, but I needed her so much because of her love…
When was time to go to bed, she used to blessed me, doing the sign of the cross in my forehead telling me in Croatian, with her mild voice: “Sweet night, my heart”. (Laku Noć, Srce Moje). I thought I couldn’t live without her blessing and her sweet words. But when the death arrived quick and treacherously without giving me a chance to say goodbye, I stayed frozen by the pain, but without tears. I couldn’t react. I, who cry for anything , and die of sorrow for the most trivial misfortunes. My mom was dead and I couldn’t cry.
I still bearing my pain in the deeps of my soul and has not surfaced yet. Today I found myself thinking, “when all this work I’m having these days finish, I’ll have more time to take care of mom”But she doesn’t need me any more.
Maybe is me who needs to stop working and moving around and think about what happened no matter how painful, and let my tears finally reach my eyes and cry, because I miss her so much. Maybe is time tell her quietly: Sweet night, mom, my heart. Goodbye. Laku Noć, Mom.