DAY 587

in {and out} Week 22: Heat

The heat started this year the same day she passed away or at least, this is my perception. Along the previous months, every time I was thinking about that possibility, I felt the heat. I don't know exactly why... maybe due to the diagnose, maybe because deep inside I knew she wouldn't live too much, maybe because regardless of all those facts, I had the hope that she would be able to live the first months of the summer, that I would be able to enjoy her company a few weeks more.

But my dear, dear, friend crossed to the other side of this existence a few days before the season would have officially started. That same day I felt a real heat and it was a foretaste of the solstice that was coming... the first solstice without her presence here.

I was not ready to start a new summer, not after all the things I have had to live this first semester of the year, not after losing most of the certainties I used to have. Not after having relinquished to the old sense of continuity. Not without this so loved friend (and the another sweet friend I lost at the beginning of the year and my precious cat who left me less than two months ago).

I was angry with the blue sky that shined brighter than ever before just the day after I had to say goodbye. World, people and in particular, this planet seemed so impassive to me!. She was not here anymore, but the heat continued its relentless progress and I felt it was detestable.

However, one morning I woke up very early. The day was starting and it was quite fresh and after opening the kitchen's window I paid attention (for the very first time in days) to the big firmament and I felt amazed. I forgot my pain for a second, I understood life and death from the viewpoint of this old mother earth and I felt released. I appreciated the pristine atmosphere and I thought of my dear friend who would have liked to delight in a morning like that once more time. I took a deep breathe and smiled for a second.

I know she had to go. I know it was the right moment (if this moment exists) because she couldn't keep living in so much pain (and she didn't want to). I had the incredible privilege of meeting her (I was only twenty five years old back then) and of having gone with her along her illness and I am thankful for this but I am going to miss her wonderful soul my whole life.

I still cry a lot but from that moment in front of the kitchen's window I have started to remember all the beautiful things we lived together...  and to reconcile with the heat, with myself and my presence here.

This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project.