Page 61 of Follow My Voice
26Mourn Me
KATIA RODRÍGUEZ
(MARCH 12, 1965 – OCTOBER 10, 2022)
“EVERY DEFEAT IS A STEP TOWARD VICTORY.”
My mother’s grave.
Standing before it, my heart cracks. It’s still hard to believe she’s no longer with us. Seeing her grave makes that fact all the more real, and it hurts. There are two little vases on the sides of her headstone with close-to-wilted flowers inside. Kamila comes every Saturday to change them, but it’s impossible for the flowers to survive the damp autumn weather very long. I can’t believe I’m here. Not being able to visit her because of my crippling anxiety has been a major source of guilt.I’m here now, Mom.
Diego stands behind me, not saying a word. I brush the dry leaves off a rock beside the grave and sit down, then proceed to run my hands over my mother’s name.
“It’s been a long time, Mami.”
Diego sits down on the other side of the headstone, studying me. I clear my throat and exhale, fighting the urge to cry, feeling like I’ve all but run out of tears.
“Mom, I didn’t come alone…” I exchange a glance with Diego. “I brought a… friend. He’s a little crazy, but I know you’ll like him.”
Diego pretends to be insulted, but not at the friend part, which I surprisingly find to be a relief. “It’s a pleasure, Ms. Rodríguez. In my defense, I have to say that Klara is not entirely sane, either.”
Our eyes meet and we both give each other a lopsided smile. We sit there for a while, talking, telling my mother everything that has happened since I started college. Time seems to fly by, and soon the sky begins to cloud and darken, lending the cemetery an air of melancholy with its leafless trees and the ground still damp from the recent storm. Then, as if nature is telling us it’s time to leave, it begins to drizzle.
“Time to go.” Diego stands up but I remain seated. “I’ll go on ahead. Take as long as you need.”
He walks away and waits under a tree as I say goodbye to my mother. Tiny raindrops fall on her silent, frozen grave.
“Mami”—my voice breaks—“I’m so sorry I couldn’t come visit you sooner. It’s been…” I take a deep breath. “It’s been… hard, very…” Two thick tears roll down my cheeks. “But here I am. Forgive me for leaving you alone for so long. I might not have been able to visit, but I carry you in my heart always. Every time I’ve given up, you’ve been there with your vegetable soup to make me all better.” A sob escapes my throat. “It’ll soon be exactly two years since you’ve been gone, ten days from today. I miss you so much, Mami… I love you so much. You can rest easy now; I will survive. I will somehow manage to go on without you. I know it couldn’t have made you proud to see me waste so much time hiding, living in fear. But I’m trying, Mom, hard, to make you proud of me again.”
I stand up, wiping away my tears. I head over to where Diegowaits, forcing a smile. “That’s it, we can go,” I say, walking past him without stopping.
Diego takes my arm and turns me to face him. Before I can say anything, he pulls me into a huge bear hug. The smell of his cologne is calming. “It’s okay, you can cry,” he says, rubbing the back of my head. I try to pull away, but he hugs me even tighter. “You know I won’t judge you; I won’t even say anything. You can cry, vent, and then we’ll go.”
I stop struggling and allow myself to sob openly. I cling to him, my arms around his waist. Diego says nothing, as promised, and lets me cry against his chest. There’s something very comforting about crying in someone’s arms, as if that person is helping to contain your sadness. I’m so used to crying all alone; this is the first time in a long time that I’ve let anyone comfort me. And Diego transmits so much acceptance, so much warmth in the midst of this cold.
I don’t know how much time passes, but I let it all out, releasing the sadness I feel after seeing my mother’s grave—this vivid reminder that she’s gone. We stand there, holding each other, as heavier rain begins to fall around us.
When I finally stop crying and pull away, I look up to meet Diego’s eyes, my hands still around his waist. He smiles and wipes the tears from my cheeks with his thumbs.
“Better?”
I nod. We’re so close that I can see the tiny freckles on his face, which is bright red from the cold. I step back and drop my hands to my sides.
“Let’s go. I can’t feel my fingers anymore,” he says.
We drive home through the chilly night. Diego turns on the radio and a soft song plays. I glance at the time.Follow My Voiceis already over and I regret having missed the show. I check my phone and see that Kang hasn’t sent any messages. His lack of communication reminds me of the day of the storm, when he didn’t text andthen hinted that I had done something to upset him. Is he mad that I didn’t ride home with him?
I show Diego where to turn and point out my house. He parks in front of it.
I take off my seatbelt and turn to him. “Thank you so much, Diego, from the bottom of my heart.”
“I’m here to serve, Hoodie,” he says, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift.
I’m about to open the door when he stops me.
“Klara?”
“Yes?” I ask, without turning around.
