My friend Angela died yesterday morning while I was alone with her holding her hand. She passed away peacefully, in silence. She had had a stroke a week ago, she was 100 years old. It was her time. She doesn’t suffer anymore. I believe she is in a better place. But still, I’m devastated. She was part of my life. For years, every day I had been taking care of her and she had been teaching me a lot of things about life with her independent, combative spirit in front of the adversities and her particular way of showing me her love.

Now I don’t dare to enter her empty room to clean up the few things she had left behind. Too many memories. I don’t know what to do. Being with her had occupied many hours of my day. I didn’t go to my room to cry alone. Instead, I went to the living room and let the piano cry for me playing soul music.

When the hour I used to go to help her get ready for dinner approaches I feel my heart empty. I have nowhere to go. Nothing to do. She’s not there anymore waiting for me. I look at my window. My views are not very good: roofs, cables, but today, the patch of sky between them is spectacular. I think it’s Angela telling me: Don’t cry, you fool. Look in what wonderful place I’m dwelling now!

Farewell, Angela, Thank you for your life.

Author: Olga Brajnović

Journalist. In my fifties. I've worked for 26 years in a newspaper in Spain. I worked for two years as a stringer and correspondent in the US, and went as a special envoy to other places like the Balkans. Sea lover. Avid reader. Classic Music enthusiast.

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