Camilleon

What do I do with sadness so deep, with longing that crawls through my bones? Where do I store this immense love that I lost, knowing that I’ll never be loved that way again.

What do I do with these last memories of you, not really being you. You were full of life. We called you our little sun because we all orbited around your warmth.

Where do I speak these hopeless words? I could never explain just what bleakness was left the minute your sweet light slowly began turning dimmer and dimmer.

The love in your eyes when you told us how wonderful we were—your heart believed and chose to see only the light in every single soul you met.

We didn’t just lose a soul, we lost a our angel. She was iridescent, unstoppable on where she shined, or whose life she decided to lighten.

While navigating this grief, I lament the darkness your body went through, the pain, and the fear of the unknown.

I pleaded with God in tears, crying out, “But God, I love her so much.” I felt Him say that He loved you more. You gave your heart to Jesus at a church in 1998 and never looked back. You dedicated yourself fully to meditating on the Word, serving others and God, sometimes leaving little room for yourself.

But, oh Mami, I know without a doubt that the moment you took your last breath, you stepped into a new body, doing what you always enjoyed the most: praising and dancing in presence of the Lord.