Good News

It is surely not the strawberry candies you used to hide or the glasses you wore during the last years of your life. It is neither the smell of your house nor the grayness of your hair, what makes me remember you. It is the game you played with us what brought us together every time I came to visit. No matter how older or younger everyone was, compared to my sister and me, you’d always make us feel equal while playing domino. Black and white, black and white, but never blue when we lost; it was fun to see all the joyful smiles, and it feels far thinking of them now. We don’t play domino anymore at least not the way we used to. I don’t know where those domino pieces are, and though some others have taken their place, I will always feel attached to the ones you shared with us.  Those lost tiles don't really matter now; I don't need them to know you are here. I have your spirit with me; all of us kind of do, one way or another, no matter where we go. Infinity may pass by, and I would still see you in the yellow of my house or in the store you ran. I would get into a Church and perceive the scent of your home, and stop walking before it eludes my mind. When my mother was there helping you to find the bone of a domino game; when my mother was there when you left this world, and an infinity flew to me, I knew we wouldn’t be playing domino for a while. Oblivion never reached you; for it was impossible to him.  You made so many lives full of hope; lives of people who will treasure you forever in their hearts. But, just to clarify, this is not a sad poem or a melancholic cry. This creation is my way of showing how important you are, and how little details you might have thought irrelevant, like a domino play, could bring you back to life. Destiny may take the light of your eyes, but the candles you left lit will forever shine guiding our ways so that we can be close to you some other day. When I moon about Heaven, I have the sense of being blessed for I’m positive you’re in there playing domino with your some other saint.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written for my great-aunt. Rest in peace tía. 

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