Tag: motherhood

TÚ NO LO SABES, PERO ESTÁS AQUÍ

Tu ropa limpia lleva doblada desde las cuatro de la tarde, pero no he querido entrar en tu cuarto a guardarla en su sitio. 

He cenado con el volumen de la televisión al mínimo, lo justo para enterarme de qué estaba viendo exactamente.

Casi a la misma hora, he cerrado la puerta de la cocina a cal y canto para que no se oyera el centrifugado de la lavadora.

He ido al baño y he hecho pis a oscuras, sin tirar de la cadena. 

Me he venido a la cama y he estado esperando un rato antes de ponerme a escribir, por si mi tecleo, a veces un poco compulsivo, era demasiado fuerte. 

Acabo de pasar por la cocina, para asegurarme de que había galletas suficientes y terminar de fregar las tazas favoritas de desayuno. Con la puerta cerrada, por supuesto, porque el centrifugado estaba en su clímax.

Y al volver a mi cuarto, he visto que la luz de tu lamparita estaba apagada. Qué despiste… La he encendido; en naranja, como a ti te gusta. Pero cuando he ido a tu cama a darte ese beso que tanto necesito para conciliar el sueño, no estabas. 

No has estado en todo el día. No has estado aquí en días. Y no me hago a la idea. No quiero hacerme a la idea. La gente lo supera y sigue con su vida. Yo me niego.

Quiero mi beso, tu olor y tu presencia. Quiero que me saques de quicio y me des los mejores abrazos del mundo mundial. Solo tú puedes curarme. Solo tú puedes salvarme. Pero TÚ, mi vida, no estás. 

THE nonNNIVERSARY

I am not going to lie. I don’t remember the day so graphically, I cannot recall every detail and feeling. What I can certainly say is that it was the best day of my life and the best party I’ve ever been to. 

It was five years ago, and I was supposed to be celebrating it this weekend. I was supposed to be having dinner in a romantic and chic -yet kind of hipster- restaurant. I was supposed to be talking about those memories I do not remember but he does, laughing at them. I was supposed to be holding his hand and been cherished; probably making love, or at least fondling. 

But I am not, and it is so freaking painful. I know… life is life, shit happens, it’s more common than you think. Yes, I got it. But it is so freaking painful when IT happens to YOU. I am spending these days feeling miserable, in spite of all my loved ones’ support and help. They can take me out for dinner, cherish me, even make me laugh. My little girl can “make love to me” in such a different but pleasant way. 

Does it feel better? Yes. A little bit. I am not where I used to. I am not with whom I used to. I am not how I used to. I am different now. My life is different now. My world fell down, maybe for good. However, I have to rebuild it now, ALONE. There’s no other pair of hands at home. There’s no partner to raise your child with any more. There are not two salaries, same mortgage though. 

How will it be from now on? Will I feel this all late July-s until the day I die? Will I find someone to mitigate these thoughts of uselessness, emptiness and loneliness? Do I need that someone? When will I assume that I am missing half the life of my daughter? Will I be able to survive that horrible fact?

I know I am always full of questions. I guess that’s me. A constantly questioning meaningless human being, with common problems and a common life, who does not appear to be able to hold herself.

I will sleep alone again today. My little girl by my side, but feeling alone anyway. Thus, my glass of wine today goes to all those couples that have so much to celebrate. For many more to come…

GONE BABY GONE

Today was the day. The punch on my face has been so hard I do not know when I’ll be able to recover.

I am sure this may sound so typical, but it is freaking true. My heart is actually and truly broken; somebody (a Mr one) has taken a piece of it. Can someone live with an incomplete heart? Can someone be happy, go on with her routine and acting like a normal person with an incomplete heart? Honestly, I don’t think so.

At least, I can’t for now. Tears still come down my cheeks, I don’t want to speak, to eat, to think, to hear. All I want is having her by my side, trying to make her sleep while fighting like fiddler crabs, laughing and hugging and kissing, with that non-stop energy of hers that makes me love my girl more and more everyday.

I know it is not a forever goodbye, I know I’ll be seeing her “soon”. So what? Please, do not try to help people that way. It is their (our) pain. We are not stupid; of course we can try to not overreact, to think rationally. It is just that we don’t want to, or we cannot do it. It is just pain…

Seventeen days look like a decade to me right now. I have been preparing myself, I have my plans made, I have been close to my people throughout the day. But still… I will be feeling miserable for no one knows how long. And it is alright.

Please do not try to make me think positive, to try to find the good side from all this. I want my tears, my pain, my missing her every single day. I want to get used to this, as it is how it is going to be for the rest of my life.

And, above all, please do not ask me for understanding. I don’t want her to like them more than me (and mines). I don’t want her to feel like a family more with them than with us. I want her to want me, to be anxiously awaiting the day we meet together again. I don’t want her to love them as much as she loves me, us. 

In any case, and as it is inevitable, take care, my Queen of the Seas. Enjoy your holidays, your sleeping late, your eating all the ice cream you want. And please enjoy the thought of us together again. I’ll be brave, as you wisely told me this afternoon. Or, at least, I’ll try to be as brave as you.