Cardiff, 4th March 2013.

Benca, mae! You ok?

Ha ha. What a stupid question! Of course you are well! How could it be any different? You’re in Heaven (yes, I believe that!) and now Maggie is with you, right?
Mother, when Isa told me about Maggie on Saturday, she was crying. She had just had a phone call from dad. She said: ‘It’s going to have to be me again, telling the news… To you and now to Xu.’
I felt sorry for her, for her to have to be again the messenger for the bad news, but I guess God always picks the messengers according to their strength, Mother. But then, you’ve always seemed to be the strongest one, Mother. Why did you have to go so soon? I keep wondering – in my ‘spiritual naughtiness’ – whether something really bad is going to happen and that God’s taken you to spare you of the  pain…
I hope it doesn’t follow a pattern: dad finds out, then he tells Isa, who has to tell Xu and me.

Mother, dad and Isa just look stronger. I don’t know if you can really see from where you are, but dad hasn’t been well. And Isa is barely ‘hanging’… And Xu… Mother, please be always with her. You may even stay with her longer, really. She’s going to be alone again soon, and I’m afraid she’s going to get depressed again. She still needed you so much, I think!

Mother, I’m still very angry. I’m sad too. I can’t stop thinking of you, of the idea of ‘not you ever again’… It’s hurting so bad. A physical pain even. I feel my heart aching for real, Mother. I can actually feel my ‘broken heart’… And I’m so angry! I feel like shouting, like a child throwing a tantrum. Why? How? Please, God, how? Why? I want my mother back! Now! Please, God! Please! Give me my mother back!

It’s a very selfish feeling, Mother, I know. But that’s how I’m feeling now. It hasn’t even been three weeks yet, but I wish it had never been!
We’re going to Amsterdam on Wednesday. I havent’ had to heart to tell dad or the girls yet. We’d booked it before everything happened. I’m going to visit the Chapel of the Lady of All Nations, as I do every time I go there, and will ask them if I can offer this Saturday’s mass in intention of you, for one month, I mean, because I won’t be able to go to church on the 13th. I’ll be in work and they don’t have a later mass during the week, I guess.
Mother, some words just don’t seem to be right when put together with your name, or the word ‘Mother’. I carry you death certificate in my bag (your bag) with me. The word ‘death’ right above your name in the document just looks like a terrible practical joke!
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No.
I wonder if I write it one million times, when I finish it everything will be back to normal. Of course it won’t. I’m just being ridiculous.
Mother, I love you so much. I can’t believe I will never see you, hold your hand, hug you, argue with you ever again!
Mother, why?
Why? L
I love you, Mother.
P.S. Mother, I’m very worried about dad. You and Maggie died practically ‘under his care’. I can only imagine what kind of guilty thoughts are in his mind and heart… Please, ask Jesus to heal his heart and free him from any guilt he may be feeling, please. Thanks.
I love you forever.
Your oldest daughter,
Dani xxx

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