All Posts Tagged ‘death




I hate being negative, but purple reminds me to the dead, because is the colour of the funerals in the church.

I have too recent my mom’s funeral, with all the priests dressed in purple chasuble, singing songs about the everlasting life, in wich I firmly believe.

It was a very sad day, because is always hard to say good-bye. Above all when there is so much love involved.

Now her home is no longer a home, but a strange empty place. It was also a day of hope, because she went to a better life, stopped suffering and finally rested. And I’m sure she’s now with dad in heaven, wich was her biggest wish.

But we, down here, would like to have her more time, to hear her stories, laugh with her, feel her love for us, her children.

I have spent my last five years taking care of her since she had a stroke. I still getting up in the morning thinking: I have to go to take care of mom… And then the harsh truth strikes my mind like a hammer. I have no longer where to go.

Well, I have found places to go and things to do, but without mom.

My life has changed completely.I miss her badly.

Ragtag Daily Prompt: Purple


Grieving Night

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Dad with his pupils at the university

Dad with his pupils at the university

I didn’t want to get out of that room. I wanted to stay by him till the end. I loved him so much! Every second was precious for me. But all the others decided that I was the suitable person to accompany my mother home to have some rest. I kissed him in the forehead, fearing it would be my last and said: wait for me, dad. He had no strength to talk nor open his blue eyes, but he managed to smile. I left the hospital heartbroken. So many remembrances kept in that faint smile, so acute pain in the soul thinking in the approaching farewell. Mom and I went home and she managed to sleep because she was exhausted. At two am I the phone awakened me.

– Come immediately, he is dying.
I got up in a rush and called mom to tell her the we had to go to the hospital. She began to dress up and comb her hair and apply her lipstick, because she wanted to be pretty for my father even in the last instant. I began to get nervous, because we didn’t have time to lose.
– Mom, hurry up, please.
Finally we went out. I drove to the hospital. My mom got out from the car at the door, to arrive as soon as possible, and I continued to find a parking lot. I ran back to the hospital hoping to find my dad alive and having the opportunity to tell him goodby.
He, who almost was executed during WWII, and once thought his body would disappear, and his love, my mom, would never know how much he loved her, was dying at old age, in her bed, surrounded by his wife and children and accompanied by a priest, friend of the family. Far away from his homeland, that’s true, but embraced by love.
When I arrived to the room, he was looking with his blue eyes to my mom, their hands clasped. He had trouble breathing and had an oxygen mask. But it was useless, so the doctor removed it. I asked the priest to pray something, but he was too moved to utter a word.
– Netter pray you something in Croatian, he told me.
I began to repeat the Lord’s prayer and the Hail Mary, my dad’s favourites.
Little by little dad faded looking at mom, his only love of 56 years. When he stopped breathing I stopped praying, the tears overwhelming my voice.  The sadness was tremendous. But my soul was invaded by an overwhelming peace. I kissed again his forehead and told him: thank you dad.

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Selfish Death



Who can tell it? Oh yeah! How selfish! The desire to die is so strong sometimes, when the life seems so unbearable that one only can think in disappear and rest. But that’s a passing feeling, that comes when I’m down in the hole of my deep depression. It will pass. I keep telling myself. Luckily I have strong beliefs and I repeat to my self that I want to go when God wants the way he wants. Not a moment before, not a moment after. I have a lot to do here. I had people who depend on me. I can’t fail them. Love makes wonders.

We are seeing everyday how millions of refugees clings to life against all odds in their endless journey from their countries in war to the desired and often denied liberty. They only think in a better life for their children, far away from hunger, bombs, and sieges. To reach their goal they endure unimaginable difficulties and even humiliations. How many of them are right now at the open air enduring the low temperatures and the bad weather without a roof to shelter them, waiting helplessly blocked by closed borders in their way to their promise land: Germany?

My own parents have been refugees of war. They were homeless and had nowhere to go, like these people. And they did it. Here we are in a new country with our comfortable lives. With what right would I get discouraged while having all what I possibly need? I have to be grateful and glad.

I feel guilty for being sad, paralysed and depressed. But I can’t help myself. And I wake up crying uncontrollably without any reason, feeling exhausted, miserable, worth for nothing. Unable to see things in their right dimension. Feeling guilty doesn’t help me at all. It’s a vicious circle. I know I have to take care of myself and wait until the storm abates. Be a little selfish. But I don’t like to be selfish in life nor in death.

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Puzzled being


This morning I turned on my computer, and the first message the screen has shown me was from Facebook. One of those birthdays reminders. One of my best friends from my time at the University would be today 57 years old. I shivered. She passed away last year after a short but hard battle against cancer. She was a journalist like me, a dedicated mother and an activist had an intense life. her death caused me a lot of sorrow. And I was just a friend. How many people close to her will receive today that same notification? How many will feel reopen their wounds? Mine was still fresh and painful. I’ve dropped a tear, I’ve said a prayer for her and then I’ve smiled. She probably is laughing seeing our puzzled eyes. Because I’m sure she is looking at us from a better place. Many memories have come to my mind this morning and they were all cheerful.

But what happened with Facebook? Maybe nobody in her family tried to cancel the account . Maybe they tried, and get discouraged because the process is so difficult it takes a research on-line to do it and find the hidden menus you need. And you can’t cancel an account immediately. You have to order the cancellation and then you have to wait 14 days. And beware checking it, because if they detect any activity in the account in this lapse of time the process can be interrupted. I have a page that I want to delete since months ago. I followed the instructions and there is no way. The page still active. Why this social networks are so possessive? Even after death?

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Difficult Difference


She was taller than the rest of us. I can’t remember her name, but I can see her face, always frightened, with her eyes looking around, a little lost, as searching for help. She had trouble understanding simple words. I had trouble too. But my case was different. I was an immigrant and I simply didn’t know the language.
I remember one day the teacher was asking us for the meaning of the word “maybe” and we had to compose sentences using that word properly. She did it wrong and everybody laughed. I didn’t. I thought it was cruel. I had experienced so many times the laughing of the other kids at my way of speaking, so strange for them, that I could figure out what my tall classmate was going through. The bewilderment, the uncertainty, the distress, the shame. The need to disappear, to go home and hide.
There is no help. The more you try to do it right, the more you rack your brain to find the right word, the most probabilities you have to say something wrong and provoke more laughs. No mistake. There is no way to avoid jokes and shame. You have to learn to live with it. And is not easy until you stop worrying about it. But for that you must grow up. And she hadn’t the chance.
She had trouble with more things. I didn’t know by then, none of us did. But she was very sick. She was older than us, that was the reason she was taller. She had some brain disease and she died too young. Nobody at our class laughed at her any more. All the kids cried remembering her. And we needed help to understand why somebody had had to go to heaven so soon. School and life are sometimes very cruel.

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See you in Heaven


At what age did you realize you were not immortal? How did you react to that discovery?

Death visited my home very soon. Somehow I always knew we are here passing by. I don’t remember my life otherwise. But I believed firmly that there is another life after this one and that our souls are immortal. Since my dad’s death, the belief has strengthened. I can feel his presence. I’m convinced he’s listening to me when I talk with him in my inner thoughts. Just like he listened to me when we had those long talks here, when he was alive, and I could hear his comforting and joyful voice. Oh, dad! I believe some day we will reunite again. If only I could be a good person like you! But I’m weak. I need your help. I want to see you in Heaven. Help me, dad. Show me the path.

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Finite Creatures.


The shark

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Describe the last nightmare you remember having. What do you think it meant?

We are having a nice day at the beach. It’s sunny and warm. Perfect. I decide to take a bath and begin to swim. Suddenly somebody screams: a shark!  I look behind me and see in the distance a shark fin. I begin to swim fast towards the shore to escape but I notice that I’m not moving from the spot where I’m. Desperate, I try to swim as fast as I can but my limbs don’t obey me. The shark fin is approaching fast. The shore, that was close when I first saw the fin, seems now to be farther and farther away. Unreachable. Everybody has disappeared. Nobody is there to help me. I feel something strange in my feet. It’s the end. I scream. I wake up still screaming and panting.

What does it mean? Who knows! Probably that there are situations from which we cannot escape and we cannot expect any help. We are on our own.  And that those situations we cannot control can generate in us fear and anguish. Maybe. But I’m sure there are people who can interpret dreams better than me.




Immortal soul and early terrors

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At what age did you realize you were not immortal? How did you react to that discovery?

I really don’t remember, but it must be at a very early age because death visited my family when I was very small and my parents surely explained to me what was all about. Including something I firmly believe: that my soul is immortal and after this life there is something else, much better, close to God. So my actions are not indifferent. I also believe that I’ll see again my loved ones who are gone. Because love doesn’t die either.

Back to my early reaction. I remember as a child wishing to die the day of the last judgment, because I didn’t want to have my body rotting in a grave.  I thought I was going to stay conscious and feel all that process as if I had been alive. I was terrified and had nightmares. My dad asked me what was the matter, and he explained me how things are so I stopped thinking that way and never had those nightmares again.

I also remember that when I was small I had something wrong in my leg, so I fell down often while playing in school. Once I asked my teacher why older people didn’t fall. She answered because if they fell they would die. Of course I believed her blindly. Next Sunday, we were going for a walk with my parents. My brother and I went ahead running down the stairs from the sixth floor where we lived to wait for my parents at the door of the building. Suddenly we hear a noise and saw my father’s cigarettes falling through the hole of the stairs. Obviously he had fallen. Then we hear my mom’s voice laughing. I thought horrified How my mom could laugh when my dad had died?.

When we saw both of them coming down smiling and talking, I realised my teacher had deceived me. My father had fallen And he had not died. My mom was laughing because nothing happened and the situation was funny.

Finite Creatures.



Sad shadows


Our weekly free-write is back: take ten minutes — no pauses! — to write about anything, unfiltered and unedited. You can then publish the post as-is, or edit a bit first — your call.

So this write about anything prompt is gonna by weekly? Dangerous. I have no imagination so I write about what occupies in my mind now.

My best friend’s mother died yesterday and I have been with her since then trying to console her. We lived a lot together. She helped me a great deal in difficult times. I want to be by her side now that she is suffering and sad. We talked a lot these last hours. She’s a sweet woman but very strong inside. She has done everything she could for her mother, so she is at peace. Very sad because of the departure, but at peace with herself.

She’s a woman of faith and she firmly believes her mother, a good woman, is in a better place, perfectly happy now, free, at last, of all sufferings of this life, close to God. This evening we’ll meet again at the church for the funeral. So today I’m in a somber mood despite that outside it’s sunny and everything looks bright and beautiful. Shadows like this one are harsh but sometimes are necessary to highlight colors and brightness of life. We are now celebrating the beauty of the life of my friend’s mother.

Ready, Set, Done.


Daily Prompt: Don’t You Forget About Me

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Imagine yourself at the end of your life. What sort of legacy will you leave? Describe the lasting effect you want to have on the world, after you’re gone.

A legacy? probably none. I’m an ordinary person with an ordinary life. I’ve never thought on leaving a legacy after me. when I thing on the end of my life I can only imagine being at peace with my conscience, at peace with God and surrounded with my loved ones. I hope they will miss me, as I miss the people I love and already departed. That’s enough for me.

Daily Prompt: Don’t You Forget About Me.

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Afraid of death


People are afraid of all kinds of things: spiders, the dark, or being enclosed in small spaces. Tell us about your greatest fear — rational or irrational.

When my dad was terminally ill in a hospital, one night he had a crisis. I was with him. I call the doctors and nurses and asked him if he wanted me to help him pray. He told me yes, please. I was praying while the doctors and nurses where all over him. They succeeded and my dad survived. Next morning he asked me

– Were you scared?

– And you?

– Don’t be scared because I’m not afraid of death.

He was ready, at peace with God, loving Him, in fact longing to rest in Him and see His face, and at peace with his conscience. He had a great faith and he was a very good and honest man who had to endure a very hard life.

When my mom arrived after the doctors explained what happened he said:

– I made a full rehearsal of death.  It wasn’t so bad.

When the last moment arrived he died so peacefully I only can remember it as a very sad but sweet experience. And I’m crying now.

Why Am I remembering all this today? Because the daily prompt asked for our greatest fear, and my greatest fear is death. I’m not like my father. I don’t feel ready to meet my Maker. I’m afraid of death. I shouldn’t because I know God is merciful and I try to live as my dad taught me. I believe in His infinite mercy with all my faith. But still I’m afraid. I have to improve a lot of things in my life. I need time. I pray for that.

I’m sorry if this post is too transcendental. I could write about my claustrophobia or about why I’m afraid of elevators, but I have a tendency to take things too seriously. And the prompt asked.

Daily Prompt: Fear Factor.
Fear posts from other bloggers on the next page:


Too much pain, too many tears



When I read today’s prompt my first reaction was don’t participate. I’m not in the mood. Today a good friend of mine has died. The first thing I thought was if I were immortal I would be saying good-by to my family members and friends constantly and that would be too much suffering to bear for me. Too much pain, too many tears for an eternity. Unless everybody I love were immortal too. But then we wouldn’t have enough room on this earth.

I believe we are immortal, our souls are immortal, and when we die, if our lives have been honest, our souls go to a better place, close to God, where there are not sad farewells but only happy welcomes with people we love.

PS: forgive me to go so transcendental, but under today’s circumstances…

Daily Prompt: No Longer a Mere Mortal.

Other ideas about immortality:

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  29. Catherine B.’s Blog | Immortal | Daily Prompt | Mere Mortal
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