When your world seems dark and scary
I hated being alive after my father’s death. Everything seemed senseless. He was gone. Where did he go? And why couldn’t he return home to be with us? These questions haunted me and remained unanswered. My mother, deeply engulfed in her own sorrow, became too fragile for me to approach with my concerns. Consequently, I had to learn to suppress my needs and emotions. She dressed in black, kept her hair short, and spoke infrequently. Our home turned into a place of darkness and despair, devoid of any adults to comfort us, as we were far removed from family and friends. Why did we remain in Germany instead of returning to Cuba, anyway? What were we doing here, all alone and miserable?
I longed for my godmother, friends, and the warmth of my beautiful island. Despite asking, my mother gave no answers. I despised our apartment, the bitter weather, and the distant nature of the people around us. There was no laughter, at home or elsewhere. Germany felt like the perfect setting for endless sadness and mourning.
I became a depressed “little adult”, preoccupied with my mentally unstable and emotionally distant mother. Her grief over my father’s death left her trapped in sorrow, rendering her unable to truly survive. Despite being alive, she wasn’t really living. It was sad to watch her being broken. I felt betrayed, having no one to support me in my grief. But that was secondary now. I needed to keep my mother stable and alive, else we wouldn’t make it in this life.
It is profoundly tragic for a child to lose one parent physically and the other emotionally. Though I felt like an orphan, I couldn’t express it openly, as people wouldn’t grasp it. They would often say: “Well, at least you still have your mother. She’s so young.” They just didn’t know how to console a seven-year-old who had lost a parent. I had nowhere to direct my grief. Life can be mysterious.
I didn’t die but started to escape into a magical world of daydreams, creating a fantasy filled with happiness, laughter, and freedom. I spent hours listening to music and dancing in my room, imagining a carefree childhood. It’s astonishing what tragedy does to a child’s mind. Sometimes, my memories are blurred because my developing brain chose to forget and dissociate as a means of survival. Would this lonely and dark life ever end? Was it safe for me to envision a brighter future? A small spark of hope remained, and it kept me moving forward.