Más allá del Sol

Her name was Delmi. She was 39 years old and had suffered for years from schizophrenia. She lived with her very elderly parents (70 or 80-something), and her mom still helped her bathe and prepared her meals. The last 3 days she was happy and even ground the corn for tortillas yesterday morning. She told her dad that she wanted to have pan dulce and because she had been behaving so well, he sent her to the tienda with money to buy pan, manteca, and kal. She also bought a tablet used to preserve the corn called a pastilla (pill). On her walk back home from the tienda she stopped at the water spicket to take the pill. When she got back to the house she gave her dad the things she had bought, and sat down in the hammock.

A short time later, she looked up from the hammock and said to her mom, “Mami, ya me tome la pastilla.” (Mom, I took the pill.)

And her mom asked her “¿cuál pastilla?” (which pill?)

“Ya es el destino, ya el final.” (It's over now, it's the end.)

And as her mother screamed and ran to her daughter, Delmi began to vomit violently. The pill had already disintegrated and irreversible damage had been done. At 8:30pm Delmi's sister Eva arrived at my house to tell my host mom that Delmi had passed away in the hospital, and that they were on their way back from the hospital with the body.

Without hesitation, while the details were still being sorted out, my host mom puts on a pot of hot water and an entire bag of coffee, making coffee for the whole town. We were going to need it.

One by one the family started to arrive. Then friends and neighbors. Delmi arrived in a blue casket around 11pm. I didn't know her very well, because she was sick and didn't leave the house. But I know her sisters and seeing them grieve was painful. The mother didn't move all night long. She sat in a plastic chair by the door, far from the casket, all night long. She barely spoke a word; the silent tears streaming down her face said all that needed saying.

This morning at 9am we buried Delmi. And as they lowered her casket into a hastily made grave, the women sang:

“ Ya se fue más allá del sol.

En el cielo no hay frio

no hay calor

ni hambre

ni sed.”

She has gone beyond the sun.

In Heaven it's not too cold

nor too hot

there is not hunger

nor thirst

I was broken for my friends who lost a loved one. I was grateful to be able to grieve with them. It is an experience I will never forget. The unity, the support, the family, and the sadness. And all the while the reminder of life still left to live, as the children laughed and played fútbol at the funeral. This country never stops teaching me that inside every sorrow there is a blessing to be found.