Rest in Piece

I didn't want her to die, even when everyone and everything screamed that it was time for her to go.

I loved her, in spite of everything. I loved her innocence, the way she believed the best of people, even after being knocked down more times than anyone would recommend for having such faith in humanity and kindness. How many times did she fall for holding those beliefs? And I thought her strong, even when others couldn't see the strength in her, since she was always sad — people can't see strength where there is sadness, they think the strong one is whoever keeps an unshakeable spirit despite the misfortunes and hardships in their life, which to my mind is madness.

I look back and I'm proud of her for always trying to get better, in her own way, the way she was taught, the way she learned, or thought she had learned, from life. How many times did she come close to dying? How many times did she pray for it herself?

And then I arrived, and the more I was there, the less she appeared; the more life I gained, the more she lost. But I didn't kill her. I let her live until she was nothing more than a memory of the past. And when that happened, I felt lost — if she no longer exists, who am I? Who is this person who writes, and what do I do with this life? She always knew the next step, she was used to that routine. But what do you do when none of it is real any more? When everything changes?

For months I tried to keep her alive in memory — her habits, good and bad, her loves, good and bad. Until I understood that I am not her, even though I once was. I am something beyond, something she always wanted but was never able to be. She died so that I could be born. She created me so that I would replace her. Without anger, without resentment, only love. So much love: she loved me before I had any consciousness of my own being, before I understood that I love myself too, and that I love myself more than I love her. And she is so proud of what I am, and I am so proud to be a product of her.

Rest in peace, my old self, thank you for everything, I'll take it from here.

Gabriela Oyara.