Today it’s been eleven years since you left me. Eleven years without your laughter, eleven years without your jokes and funny insights. Eleven years without that colrd coconut cake of yours. Eleven years without you.
It’s been eleven years, but when I remembers, I still feel like that thirteen-year-old, scared and sad. That thirteen-year-old who, despite having people, ended up truly alone. It’s been eleven years, but it feels like yesterday. And each day that goes by, I miss you more.
It’s also been eleven years since I last saw Little Bear’s Adventures hugging you. Or that we don’t get out late at night just to have some coconut water, or watch Friends together. Or that we baked TWO cakes, just so we could eat one while it was still hot.
But I know that you are in peace, in the Goddess’ arms, and that you are no longer suffering.
I love you, mom.
About the pic: On the left, my mom, on June 3, 2000. On the right, me, on May 12, 2012.
