many more? Drama Ad memoriem Ruby Cifuentes.
Inside your womb is brewing amid a silence perfectly absurd and physiology, the beginning of what will be a future tragedy. Days pass, nights, months and years and he is still there, silent and apparently lifeless. Works under the custody of silence, silent all, does not reflect anything and time is running and running. Your eyes-the window of the soul, only reflect the living of life, joy and sadness, the madness and debauchery, the moments of pain and anger, moments of joy in which you yell because you reached an achievement, you do not realize but he is still there, hidden as the greatest of cowards trying to pass unnoticed.
Time goes fast, running as if he desire, between breath and breath, your life will compose your own melody, is almost ready. Do not you realize, your children are grown, and rely on their own and you just yesterday they would feed off your chest. And the clock is ticking. The passing of life shows you friends and enemies. Your friends, smug joy, your staff have been emotionally for several years, your family is warm wool blanket that wraps around to relieve loneliness you just touch. Your enemies, do you think have been passengers, those who once believed fragile and lonely see today are only memories, have finally gone from your life. The rest continues and time goes on, goes away.
suddenly feel something strange, you're different, your days have changed their taste. The vitality and lucidity of success you have always accompanied seem to get away suddenly. This is no time to disrupt not know it, your enemy you thought vanished, is working on your being quiet and discreet, slow and steady, rooted closer than you think.
decides it's time to go to the doctor. Finally you see that they call "doctor "is changed, were not seen in months. He looks old, already has a few wrinkles around his eyes and hair that seems to be fading every morning, every morning and every night. It is up slowly, looks into your eyes he says come back soon, that afternoon and by the way, say hello to friends radiology. Time is ticking.
day arrives at last have something for you, is news.
- P ou be healthy. think as he calls your name to the solitude of a cold corridor of the hospital. His eyes look at you like stingers, are immersed in your humanity soft and delicate. I had not noticed, but you've dropped a few kilos .
- not good news. Dice dying voice. - know this is hard and will soon emerge from this, there are several very effective treatments . Continued.
not resist the tears, the news paled your days. Now you knew I was there in the depths of your heart. Reservation as if afraid, but to strengthen its shield, feeding on your blood, your life and step acabándotela.
Now you see that not everything is so easy, you're weak and you lose your hair, the clock is ticking and now is an enemy more, those who thought you had defeated. You feel a few breaths, those few that are sufficient to meet you well, but even you doubt it. Now you see that your life is short, you're only halfway, but he had prepared his surprise you that when you will notice its presence cruel and perverse, faint. However, the clock is ticking.
vouchers will no longer by yourself, you feel you body weight. The vitality of your aura has faded, no longer respond. Perhaps you feel your own pain that you cry when you are in life. It is late, time has run, and he was present in each of your days, in each of your actions. Today, comes out and gives his signs of strength, not tired of being your enemy wants to kill you and try to kill it with the toughest of treatments.
The sobbing and the cries of your people are not reflected in their faces when they are with you, but behind that wall, just opposite, forming endless oceans of tears of pain, to see you still weak and tired. But all the brilliance of their tears, take shelter in the hope that soon you'll be fine. They want to be with you, he is also their enemy. Trying to put a smile on their faces but not reach it, then you settle for looking at them intently, one by one. The clock is ticking and keep running desperately.
The day came, you lie on your bed that was your partner for over 40 years, it's time to quit. You will be in a place where maybe you can get up alone, where perhaps hoping to focus ... or perhaps lost. Never mind, is the game of life, of all out. You are not alone, "you know, something overwhelms your soul, you're pale, almost inert, but feel that it is not the time, you're waiting for her to arrive. Hardly, your strength enough to get out of bed and head out. I do not believe but you are more conscious than ever, know that waiting for someone, so the run time.
Night falls and withers its absence undermines your existence, you think you're in the place, where hopes are multiplied, where perhaps find the answer while he was there, silent in your shelter. Overnight y el alba te indica que ya es un nuevo día, una nueva batalla que estás intentando ganar, pero que cada vez te hace mas débil. Por fin ves su cara, es blanca tiene algunos apartes de color rosa y unas diminutas manchas de sol. Sientes una dicha formidable, por fin logras ver a la mujer que te dio la vida. Ahí está ella, en frente tuyo con su frondoso pelo blanco y su cara tierna con aire maternal, te besa y te dice que te quiere, que estará contigo el tiempo que sea necesario, hasta verte salir de allá e ir de paseo como lo habían planeado hace apenas unas semanas.
El tiempo no da tregua, tus esperanzas de verla ya se convirtieron en hechos, y hoy son alicientes para sentirte tranquila, serena y en calma, justo as it always has been. Think it's time. Close your eyes and the warmth of the hands of your shoots, flowering now decide to leave this material world, and go to the quiet and ethereal, where he can no longer determined to invade your lap. Won the war finally came over you, and your whole body, you die now, and most likely will want to cross the barrier genealogical such that for some time had shown you that you could be next, that your father did not beat a little less than two years.
Today, there is only the theft of what was once your body, stored in a caramel-colored wooden box, adorned with flowers and prayers of which were yours. Today, the enemy stubbornly silent about ending your life, your being, leaving with head held high. Have you been a victim over the empire attacked.
Why, why are you so damn clever cancer? See how many you've taken no more! How many more you have in your black list? Will never our reason and our intellect indomitable succeed in finding a way to avoid this damn shame of suffering? How many more will your victims? What some began to take control of your being? Will continue to slow, silent and gloomy steps in our guts? How many more? please How many? ****
This entry dear readers perhaps goes a little of what is usually written in this blog. It is made with heart in hand after going through this difficult time, but especially is dedicated to the memory of my Aunt Ruby, while the life of Jorge O (sporadic reader of this blog) and Lili, their children , who these days, having lost most adored in the world and who was everything to them: their mother . Also, I dedicate it to all those who currently suffer or have someone worth dying with this pain that we call cancer .
