Today, 23 years ago, it was my parents’ and Ricardo’s funeral….

They died on  5/22/1992 which was a cold day.

And it was a Friday.

We in Brazil bury our deceased within 24 hs of their passing because we don’t do embalming. Which gives only 24 hs for family and friends to be contacted and travel if they are from out of town and want to attend the funeral.

I remember, like a bad dream that you can’t wake up from, cheap jerseys China of people coming from all over and learning later how they traveled over night in order to come for the funeral. Uncles, aunts, cousins, friends…

I remember standing alone in the middle of three coffins where they looked wholesale mlb jerseys like cheap jerseys sleeping, no blood, nothing (one of the “benefits” of being dead)…, just there, laying like cheap sleeping. While I, on the other hand, was all bruised and beat up with black eye and cuts on my face that couldn’t be stitched, and with a pain in my soul that no amount of tears could console.

And I remember thinking: “Thank God they died on a Friday, because it gives people a chance to come on a Saturday funeral without missing school or days of work…”

Crazy, huh?

Pain does that to you. You think crazy thoughts, you might even do crazy things (which I didn’t…then…), and for what? Just so you can cope with the craziness of the reality you are in.

After all these years, I can still remember two as if it is happening right now. And I can’t remember what I had for lunch 3 days ago… How “normal” is that the memory does this kind of thing? Super normal, a lot of people will say.

But it still sucks!

People say: “Time cures everything”.

But like the Brazilian poet Carmem Galvão (a friend’s aunt) once said: “Time doesn’t cure anything….time only takes pain from center stage”.

And as much as pain comes back to center stage, I always do my best to choose life and joy, because I knew there were lessons and treasures in all this pain and since I had already paid the price and they were already wholesale mlb jerseys all dead, I was better off finding all of this so called “treasure” and not leaving one nugget of it behind.

It is a choice that sometimes I wasn’t very good at making.

Years later, I came across this poem from Rumi that says beautifully how I always felt and how I dealt with all that pain…most of the time

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.
Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.



Grateful that I survived the car crash and the aftermath of the painful memories.

Grateful that I had the support of friends and family that helped me through that first year after the accident and beyond. They truly saved my life.

Grateful that Chris (ex-boyfriend turned into a great friend, prior to me meeting, dating, marrying and losing Ricardo) decided to come back Jose to my life and stand by my side and marry How me when I was broken in million pieces, and while I went thru the ‘dark nights of my soul”. He is my soulmate and keeps saving my life and holding me when pain comes back on center stage and memory plays its game of “remember when….?”

Grateful for the children Chris and I have together and are now part of the center of my Universe. And their mere existence saves my life everyday that I can celebrate the joy of being their mom in this lifetime.

Yes, sorrow wipes my house clean of its furniture every time, and every time I’m ready for a new delight.

Eliana Salter, Saturday May 23rd 2015.