I don't believe spirits rest in peace, mom.
I believe you keep on dancing and giggling and getting lost when the sun hits your eyes.
I believe words will make sense again.
I believe there may be something worth saying.
I don't believe I will ever be able to say it all. Even if you had lived for 30 more years, I would never be able to say it all. Even if I knew you were about to die and I had the chance to tell you everything that mattered, I would say the same thing I said to you the day before you lied: "I love you."
And you would respond the same way you responded to my text: "I love you more."
What else, mama? Ce mai?
