I could see how they took them. I saw them they could not see me, they were covered with a sheet.
I saw them and I was silent. I accompanied in silence the funeral procession, coffins hidden in hospital beds.
Hour of death…
One day I will hear that phrase and I would know that I would be dead, even though I continue noticing the pulse in my temples and the pain of my groins, if someone of those who lived there point at me saying:
– “Hour of death”.
Everything would start.
They would remove all the machines, tubes, iv lines, the pillows of my legs and I would be covered with the sheet as who nude to a statue.
And thus, doubts in my head mixed about my life and death, or inside out, and that doubt could not be solved. I was more vulnerable but also firmer.
Because death also accompanies us. It´s engaged fear, loneliness, doubt, what happens. Once out and saved, we don’t want to name it as if silence could kill it in this world of living people.
Death scared me, but what I most overwhelmed was not knowing with certainty as live or dead, because there was no parameter that I knew or could identify to be sure of this.
Just the passage of these veiled statues, made me believe that I continued in the other side.
It would have been simpler, that someone would have said my name and my condition.
Raquel, you are alive.
And my doubt would be determined, because I would have recognized those three words.