Chapter II — Moving Forward
Three months had passed since her death, one Saturday that dad wasn’t home, it was the beginning of night, I went to my room and started to cry. I was crying so hard that I could barely breath. I stayed there in my bed crying for hours, I could only stop way into the night. My brother tried to console me, Amélia (my “step-grandma”, really complicated story) did the same. No amount of words or affection would calm me down. I believe that was the first time I realized that my mom didn’t just travel to a distant land and she would at some point come back. It was at that moment that I figured out she wasn’t coming back, I would never have her in my life again. I wouldn’t have her hugs, her hands stroking trough my hair and my attacks of “Mamicite” (word created by my mother that referred to times I just had to be near her, demanding a hug, a kiss or some motherly comfort). Never again, I would be able to look at her eyes and feel that motherly love.
A while after, I was at my shrink’s office and my dad tagged along. It was the first time he told me she killed herself. However I started the treatment when I was 10. I was one of those kids that couldn’t stop moving, making noises, biting my nails. To sum up I was a very anxious kid.
At my first session with the shrink, Maria (the name of the shrink) had asked me to make some drawings for her. She asked me to draw a house with a three on the garden. I remember as if it was yesterday, I drew a big fancy house with a kid on the ceiling having a coke. In the garden, I drew a big beautiful tree with a snake wrapped around it. The shrink told me later on, that the house with the boy on the ceiling showed that I knew something was wrong, that there were some truths in my life that I wasn’t informed, but I unconsciously knew. She also told me that the tree was the symbol for the mother, and that the snake showed that something was wrong with her. Two weeks later, my parents sat down with us (me and my brother) and explained that my mother had a disease called Depression, which made her really sad. It had nothing to do with us, my father said, it was just a filter that took the color out of life.
Only when my dad tagged along to shrink’s, sometime after her death, that he told me she killed herself and that she tried to do it before. Maybe that’s why I unconsciously knew she was dead the moment I sat on my brothers bed. The first time she attempted against her life, I remember my uncle stayed at home and told us she was having women problems. A nurse stayed home for a period of time, and unusual visits became normal.
I never figured out how I really felt about her suicide. On one hand I kind of understood that she was seek, on the other, I never forgave her. It seemed to me that it was an awfully selfish act of a person that really didn’t care that much, or else she wouldn’t do it. I guess now, that she felt as if we where better of without her, even though that makes no sense whatsoever.
I will always remember the good times I had with her, like my brothers Bar Mitzvah. She made a hell of a party for my brother. As I previously stated we lived in the suburbs of São Paulo, in a place called Tamboré. The house was huge, we had a big garden, a pool, sauna, a gym room, a trampoline. The entrance was a grand sight, and incredibly high height, 20 seats dinning table (that we only used when guest were at home) was at your right hand side, to the left a living room, and forward you could see this huge window that looked over the mountains. For my brothers Bar Mitzvah, she improvised a little synagogue at the garden, she took all the furniture out of the house and covered the pool with a dancing floor. There where Cuban bands playing some music, two Djs also where there, to sum up you could swear you where at a club.
However what is more vivid in mind is the dress she was wearing that day. Her pink night Gawn with sparkles all over. She got amazingly drunk that night and we were having a great time. That was who she was when she wasn’t sad or sorrow. She was a great creative mind that stopped at no point to give us the best she could possibly afford.