It was September 2 of year 1995, in the house of the family located to the east of the Province of Lima, had passed away
my mother in company of all its children, my medical father, daughter-in-law, son-in-law and two cousins, occurred santa him extramaucion, the holy oils. A great one feels drained, her we left and is a pain difficult to describe, to narrate, of titling. The continuous life as they say, I believe that this I devise somebody that her mother even lives and is eighty years old and but (one feels envies heals). It already ran the month of October (month of the miracles), the Fair of Mr. of the Miracles, of Mr. de Pachacamilla, image painted by a brought slave of Angola and that root of a strong tremor which I destroy great part of Lima, during the time of the Colony, stayed completes, without damages, of the Devotion to the image was born there and that the original one keeps in the Church of the Nazarenas (Av. Tacna crosses the Jr. Huancavelica in the Surrounded one of Lima) and is appraised neither or entering the church, in the procession removes an image alternating, a copy, not for that reason the less valuable. We return to my house, to October, the heavy, great, empty house towards simultaneously, flood of memories, a sensation of not wanting to arrive early, doing a long time to get single to sleep and to leave early to work, one night as to three of the dawn I felt to pronounce my name, three times, with a tone that single a mother can do it, that cannot be imitated, raises to me (she slept in the room, second left floor hand), so I descended by the stairs, I did not catch any light so that there was adapted vision, by the screens of wall wall that tapeworm the house in the room and later atmosphere, walks, observes by the room and nothing, single silence, I continued by the dining room and I saw in the sofa bed located in the living room (where it was the television of veintiún inches of 15 channels, marks Zenith), I saw to my mother with its favorite dressing gown, my father I buy several to him, but it persisted in using this, with this article I saw sitting in the sofa, igualita, with her gathered greyish hair and in the central part a white tuft, sente me in one of the chairs located there, alongside straight, tries to establish a conversation, asking that wished, like one felt, other things that no longer memory, but I did not find any answer, I think that perhaps it was to take leave, did not occur the opportunity to do it, since she I enter comma, was agonizing several hours, my medical cousins controlled its vital signs and I, cogia its left hand, perhaps with the faith, belief, idea, feeling, illusion, miracle, of being able to pass my force, love and vitality to him, but this did not occur, I believe that by this its presence, to take leave of its family and marries, who so many times crossed, lived and care. To my sister and French brother-in-law, in Grenoble, France, also appeared to him, (but this is another history) are these actions, facts, situations that one puts its faith on approval, its common sense, its logic, but the explanation is that the force of the love is thus, does not have impossible. She lives through her children, who are part of the life now. I finish with an oration, that I learned of her: “Angel of the guard, my sweet company, you abandon to me neither at night nor by day, when it sleeps to me, déjame in the arms of Jose Maria Writes “Love. It values the luck and blessing to have your alive mother, dale always a time, to part of the family that you formed, a little while is valuable for her, Perhaps its time this close, but you can offer moments of joy, gratitude, love and recognition him, say that it masters, a strong hug, will do to you, not only a good son to him, a good person, but but human, with fuetes values and single thus you will know to transmit this to your children and they to its children, by always. When no longer this, to remember it and to honor it as it must be. Not vaye to being who appears to you like a luck to gather his steps. Thus it is.