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“Yes!”
With that, I slap her face for tricking me into marrying Diego. It’s as clear as day this is what she wanted. I slap her so hard that my hand burns as it meets her cheek.
“You bitch!” she cries as she holds her cheek.
“Stay away from me and the ones I love, or I will make it much worse,” I bite out as I walk away from her.
Cristina’s eyes are wide open as I walk past her into the church. I’m ready to bury mi abuela. Not only did one person die today, but two. I’m crying for one, but Belén, as far as I’m concerned, is dead to me, and good riddance.
Istand outside the funeral home, preparing to say my final goodbyes to Abuela. The entrance is adorned with wreaths of lilies and roses, a solemn reminder of the fragility of life.
Soft instrumental music plays in the background, filling the air with a melancholic melody. Rows of chairs are neatly arranged, occupied by friends and family who have come to pay their respects. The scent of flowers mingles with the hushed whispers of condolences, creating a bittersweet atmosphere.
As the service begins, a gentle voice speaks heartfelt words about Abuela’s life, her warmth, and the indelible mark she left on all of us.
The eulogy is delivered with grace about Abuela’s life, highlighting moments of joy, resilience, and love. A photo slideshow unfolds on a screen, capturing snapshots of her life—a journey marked by laughter, milestones, and the quiet beauty of everyday moments.
After the service, the atmosphere shifts as we gather outside for a moment of reflection. Friends and family share stories, offering comfort and support to one another. The gravity of this loss hangs heavy in the air, but there is also a sense of unity and connection as we celebrate Abuela’s life together.
1 My dad’s inside.
2 Stop!
47
Diego
It’s as if the need to drink, smoke, and just be the idiot I was back in Cobeña takes over me for a brief second as I ride in the car with my associate at the wheel. I need to focus and stop giving in to the cravings and demons that make me weak.
I’m stronger than that.
I know I am.
Abuela’s hand holds on to mine as she sits next to me. Maybe she can sense what’s going on inside my head, and that’s why she does it.
I turn to face her.
“You look too much like her, you know. This is why he does what he does.”
I nod my head, because she told me that before, that my face is a constant reminder of the woman he once loved. Does it make it right what he did to me?
No.
“Leticia sent me a message last night. I can’t believe that I acted like some monster in a funeral. In her abuela’s funeral.”
I take in a deep breath as I have to admit that I’m a fucking idiot. I behaved like one. Leticia has me caring about everything and everyone.
Abuela doesn’t say a word. I know in her heart she’s hurting and I should be supporting her, instead of having to feel the need to babysit me.
“I didn’t get it at first. She sent some audio links, then I listened to a couple of them, because I couldn’t sleep. They were by some dude called Joe Dispenza. He talks a lot about the act of forgiving.”
“Do you think it can help you? Do you think it’s the one thing holding you back?”
“I think if I could move on, then I wouldn’t have acted like a jerk at the funeral.”
She shakes her head. “You are in control of your emotions. The only person stopping you from moving on, is you.”
I’d been told so many times about this, but then as I replayed in my mind about how I behaved at the funeral, I realize she’s right. I need to make a change.
