At the time of departure.Well, what a disappointment. No

At the time of departure. Well, what a disappointment. No light at the end of the tunnel, nor my life passing in slides before my eyes. What a fraud. Death is full of lying myths. Maybe it's because of the coma, which has me trapped in some kind of of death in slow motion. The fact is that I feel like a presence, light and imperceptible to the others around me, although I can see them and even flutter between them even though I lie helplessly on the bed with the eyes irreversibly closed. My body still breathes, but less and less desire. I'm dying. I have lived 87 years. It's not bad at all. That I remember, now Same thing, I have nothing left to do, of everything I always wanted. Clear Sometimes I would have liked to know what it feels like when three maids They serve you tirelessly from the moment you open your eyelids until you go to bed. sleep, but I do not renounce my life as a worker, as a mother and as a wife who a hand whenever it was necessary. How happy to die without regretting anything. AND Above all, how happy I was to have forced them to promise me that no hospitals to die When I leave, I warned them, I want to do it in my house and in my bed, which is where I have been happiest. It's also satisfying to see all the people I love here, around me, accompanying me in these last minutes. I'm missing some of my girls from the retirement home and the widows' club, but when I fell ill I I knew they weren't coming. They told me. That at these ages, any death remember the proximity of their own, and that they couldn't stand it. I don't know reproach. They have given me so much company and so much good since I lost my José Enrique, I can forgive you for your absence. Oh, my José Enrique. Fifteen years ago since you left me alone. Wherever you are, you will know that your good things have run out, because that's where I I'm going to keep you company. I know you will be waiting for me with the smile you had always on your beautiful grateful lips. I want to see you so much... and touch you We're supposed to be spirits, but I don't care. I know that I can touch you, and you touch me, and kiss us again like when we were teenagers. Tea will you remember? I will tell you that story a thousand times if necessary. you were the most handsome in the neighborhood, the bravest, the bravest... all you needed was the horse white to be the perfect knight of the medieval stories that my older brother All the other girls were dying for a look from you, and I always knew that your pupils would never waste a second for them. and I I remember the first kiss you stole from me almost at the end of a party in the town, hidden from everyone so that my father wouldn't slap you twice. I I was crying with rage, because the next day you were going to fight in the Civil War, but you told me that you would come back to look for me so that we could get married, and I sensed that you were a man of your word. When you showed up, I never knew about how, at the door of my house, dirty, thin and exhausted, kneeling on his knees, the April 2, 1939, to ask me to marry you, I knew right away that no one More than you could be the man of my life. Even if I had had three lives, I would not have reached Thank God for the gift he gave me with you. I thought that he Marriage consisted of being happy one day a month, at most, because that was what What had happened to my mother, poor thing, and that would also happen to many of my friends, whose husbands' love lasted, at best, until the first child and the hardships of the post-war period began to take their toll. beauty. These were difficult times to sustain happiness, and I believed, as The priests repeated tirelessly that my fate as a woman was to endure and suffer. from the moment my husband decided. But not you, José Enrique, you never. A few fights, very occasionally, and then a reconciliation wonderful full of love. It's a shame you were a man of few words: never I really knew why you loved me that way. And our moments in the thalamus. When I remembered them, years After your death, I still blushed. On the wedding night I was terrified. I barely knew what I had to do or what you were made of. and I I remember your smile, seeing me there as still as a statue; "Encarnita, Move, woman, so I don't do everything," you told me. And as time passed, I learned to move more and more, getting from your caresses, kisses and hugs. a pleasure that, even within marriage, would have been a source of scandal for many. There was no corner of your body that my mouth could not inspect, not a shred of my skin whose taste was not familiar to your tongue. how you made me enjoy. Many years later, with that of the feminists that so much curiosity woke up between two almost totally illiterate people like us, we We found out that the laziness that came over me after the fornication was called orgasm or something similar. And I asked you if we wouldn't be sinning by enjoy that way, and you told me that if we did it with love it couldn't be sin. We had so much fun that I came to the conclusion that that's why We had such strong and robust children, seven no less. Not one of them He never caught anything more serious than the flu. The last time we made love we were already old people, Jose Enrique. You took one of those little blue pills, even though the doctor told you He said that they did not suit your heart, and you replied to him, there in the middle of consult, that what was not convenient for your heart in any way was to leave your lady, present at all times, by the way, without a good last romp before you leave this world. You were 70 years old, and I was 65. I remember perfectly of that night, of all the candles you put around this bed in the that now I am dying (the same one in which we conceived those seven children with the strength of those seven orgasms); It smelled like lavender, which you know I love, and you had played the old Machín album, under the protection of which so many clinging We danced in our youth. I remember the restful and serene love that was in your caresses, of the happiness that your eyes and mine contained, of your fingers sliding all over my body, digging into the most intimate corners and giving them back a freshness that they had almost forgotten. I remember the hardness of your member entering me for the last time, of your leisurely riding, of your last ecstasy, pouring into my already sterile interior, while you kissed me with all the sweetness in the world. How did you manage to make me feel like a little girl? again. Sometimes I regret that it took me fifteen years to start this trip to find you, but I couldn't do anything but be patient and wait for the ugly old Grim Reaper, whom, by the way, I have not seen in these final hours. I would like to tell our children and grandchildren to stop of tears, because I feel very happy to go to meet you, but not even I can speak to them, nor do they hear me. And furthermore, every time I feel lighter, and I I rise, and I don't see the white light, but... but... I see you, José Enrique... I see your smile and your outstretched hand... Of course I'll go with you... Bobo, what questions You have... Of course I'll go with you.