Who brings me here today is Joseph,
my son who left very early in this world,
with only 11 days.
I have two other children, a boy and a girl.
They are well, healthy, full of energy,
but I like to think that of the three, José, just the middle one,
It’s what works for me the most.
He challenges me every day to do things I’ve never done,
like being here now, talking about mourning.
He invites me to deal with the unimaginable,
the imponderable: death.
Yes dear ones, I came to talk about death,
because it is part of life!
When my baby is gone,
in this inversion of the natural course of life,
I was uncomfortable, I asked myself, “Why, why me?”
Soon I realized that the only question that makes sense is:
“Why not me?”
What I have or would have been special about
May I be spared from living a loss?
To face death?
Nothing, I have nothing to protect me from death,
And neither do you.
Then it is possible that you have also experienced this pain,
the pain of mourning,
the one that opens inside us a hole so big,
It hurts even to breathe.
My hole was like this, the size of the world.
I have lost a child, and this pain can not describe.
But I got other things.
I earned my living again.
Death brings us something and leaves us something.
She left me hope.
A desire to transform, to write.
Today I know that it is common that after the loss,
people to reinvent themselves and move from home, to work,
start new projects, decide to travel, paint, embroider, sail.
It is life pulsing.
It is from the bottom of the well that comes this force of life.
The death of someone close to us strengthens us
in our own commitment to life.
Of course, this impulse of hope is not immediate.
It takes time.
Mourning, mourning takes time.
It is not a time that counts in days and hours,
it is a very own time.
At first, it’s sad, it’s lonely, it’s like a …
it is as if the world were in black and white.
Little by little, little by little, the days grow lighter,
the laughter is appearing,
life is gaining color brushstrokes.
Something is born!
With the death of my boy,
new friendships were born, new connections were born,
new ideals, Joseph was born the book.
The book is my story,
of this encounter with this emptiness,
written on pages soaked with tears.
And I wrote it because I simply had to write and report
this encounter with the emptiness and the reunion with the hope.
There is beauty in mourning.
There is poetry too.
I wrote what I wish someone had told me.
A friend who would lovingly tell me:
“It’s going to be okay. Take your time to say goodbye to him and go live too!”
But that’s not what people say.
Totally unprepared that we are to deal with death,
in an attempt to help, we talk too much.
We talk about our reasons, about our beliefs.
How to solve it, as if there was something to solve,
with a certain haste to stifle, to liquidate the sadness.
Phrases such as “God knows what he does”. “It was better this way.”
“You can have another child.”
Like a shoe, right?
“You can have another child.”
“You need to get over it.” “You need to forget!”
People! We do not want to forget!
We want to remember, we want to honor those who left.
So from the bottom of my soul,
I say these words do not heal.
For those who are bleeding from the inside, they come empty, they do not even notice the bandage!
The dressing comes in the look, comes in the affection,
comes in the welcome, comes in to listen.
I believe it is possible for you to feel my pain,
without you having lived the same experience.
It is possible that we may feel the pain of the other within us.
And at that moment, when we cry together, sit together,
it is the moment of empathy.
And from this place the only thing possible to say
for someone who has lived a loss is:
“I’m so sorry!”
Please, let this be the first thing we’re going to say,
when we are near someone who has lost someone.
“I’m so sorry!”
Offer your heart, your gesture, your presence, be present.
Be present at that time,
after all if they are, inclusive;
not just at the initial critical moment, at the funeral and burial rituals.
Be present when silence comes.
Offer to be the practical help:
which will water the plants,
solve a task, cook, care.
In this way, those in mourning may simply cry;
because crying is necessary.
And perhaps with your support, even trying to leave the house,
take off his pajamas, face the street,
answer the trivial question:
“Hi, how are you?” Several times a day.
I would try hard to say, “Alright!”
Here in my heart I said, “I’m not well, my son died.”
It was not easy.
It is not easy until today,
but I did.
I realized that starting over, working,
to leave home, to go to parties, to get pregnant again,
to give birth to my daughter,
to write about mourning and even to talk about it,
here now and I realized because I received support, too.
From the family, from the friends, from a network of solidarity that embraced me.
I got support here, now, from you!
And this is the second message I want to leave,
so that we can welcome those who live in mourning:
you are not alone.
We are many, we are together.
The desert of mourning is already too lonely to want to cross alone,
so if you are living this pain, allow yourself to be cared for, take help.
Take advantage of this half-crazy state that mourning gives us,
leave aside the comments and live that mourning that is only yours,
because after all what we all want is to be happy again!
And this is the third and perhaps the most beautiful message I want to leave
For those who have lost someone:
You’ll be happy again! Without him, by him. “
I am happy.
Maybe I’m even happier,
because today I am more connected with life,
I feel stronger, braver, I am a more powerful mother.
I’m more awake to life, I’m celebrating life.
I came here to celebrate life, to celebrate hope.
I came at the invitation of my son Joseph,
who is flying around the world.
One day we’ll meet again.
See you later.
(Applause)
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