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In Our Own Words
Living With Literature/Writing Our Stories
SELECTION ELEVEN
In response to "The Day It Happened," by Rosario Morales
February 2004. I like this feeling.
It reminds me of when I was younger, when we did things together as a family. We were close that day. We drew strength from one another. We had to. None of us were strong enough to stand alone, especially my mother. We stayed in my Nana’s house. I slept in the same bed as I did when I was a child. I felt innocent and at peace for the first time in a long time. The morning was hard. We all knew what had to be done, although none of us wanted to do it. I didn’t like this feeling.
At the church my sister spoke. There were over 200 people there. While she was speaking, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room, including mine. I was very proud of my sister that day.
The line of cars was long. Probably the longest I’d ever seen. People from all walks of life driving to the same destination. When we got to our destination, the air was very cold and the wind made it even colder. I remember my father, uncles and I huddling around my mother, trying to cut down on the wind.
I remember the feelings I had at that moment. I was sad, happy, but also very proud to be able to say I knew this woman whom so many people adored.
The last thing I remember about that day was the big silver box being lowered into the earth. As I threw the flowers into the hole that day, I thought to myself: I promise I will make you proud of me, Nana.
by RS