It's never easy to mourn someone, I've been experiencing it for a year. People may think that pain will eventually leave with time. That mourning, if you come to relativize, will be less strong and less painful. That is not the case. Moreover, it is not death that hurts. At first, I thought that was the most painful thing. To not feel the presence of the person near you. To no longer see them at the first light of the day. To no longer say good night once the sun is making way for the moon. I thought it was the loss of the person that crushed the hearts of those who were crying. I was wrong. In mourning, it is not the fact that we will not see again the deceased that kills us slowly, but the memories that they left in us while leaving us. It is by leaving their trace in the world of the living that kills us at the same time as their death settles in our daily life. What egoism. What egoism on the part of life to let us remember a loved one. Whether for better or for worse.

Who said that to move forward, to grow up you had to live cruel and atrocious things? Who said we had to create death, mourning to allow us to better understand the future? Who said it was necessary to keep the memories of a deceased person? For what reason? At what price?

Does the person who set up those rules know the pain it causes? Do they know the misfortune they put in hearts? Do they know that this does not always help us to grow, to go further on our road to the future? Do they know that the action of the deceased person often becomes the result of those made by the beings who loved them on Earth?

If I had had a glimpse of my life, I would have wished that mourning did not happen in the curve of the latter. I would have wanted to erase this event. I would have liked to experience it only at a very advanced age. Today I cannot go back, I only can move forward even if I have a mortal desire to stop walking. I cannot look back without feeling myself disappear in the darkness. I cannot look back without feeling sucked by the uncertain. I am only stuck in the present. Taking one step after another on my path. Living to the nearest second.

Since his death, I stopped living when his heart stopped beating. This famous day had passed like all the others. It had been banal. So banal that life was weirdly annoying. So annoying that it had slowed down the time. I think I will always remember the day of his death. Not for its atmosphere, but for the fact that I felt nothing. Like a blind man who cannot see, I did not feel any suspicious sensation. Everything had been perfectly normal. I think that's what I'm blaming myself for the most. I think it's the guilt of not feeling anything that hurts me the most and does not allow me to move forward.

If I had felt, as soon as I woke up, something that resonated like a danger in my heart; if I had felt, as soon as I woke up, that something bad was going to happen during the day, then I would have done everything to find the cause of this malaise. If only I had the presentiment of his death...

But with such a presentiment, could I have done something? Would I have found him in time to reason with him? Could I have helped him?

I will always remember that day because the news fell like rain on a beautiful summer day. Suddenly and violently. I think we cannot expect death. It falls on us like the lightning that illuminates the stormy black sky. It's fast and bright at the same time. It is only when our eyes are no longer dazzled by the light that we realize how beautiful the lightning was. The announcement of his death had been the same phenomenon. But beauty had given way to nightmare.

I can see my body shaking. I hear again my voice uncertain, broken and blocked in my throat to answer the person on the other side of the phone. I remember the cold that had fallen on my shoulders. The weight that ended up burying me in the ground. I remember my heart screaming so loudly that its voice resonated throughout my being, and yet no one expect me could hear its suffering. I remember tears that could not flow and still cannot flow today. I remember the environment that had frozen for a nanoseconde. I remember the distress, the sadness that I faced once arrived at the scene of the accident. I remember faces destroyed by a tragedy, as harmless as death can be. I remember arms hugging me. I remember hot tears running down the bare skin of my neck. I remember every tiny detail of that day. I remember colors, shapes. I remember everything as if it had been my own death.

Yet this memory looks like a blank page today. The image is always alive in my memory, but like an old picture, its colors fade away, carrying with them the memory.

For a year, I cannot say if I mourned. I cannot tell if it has started or if it ends. I just know that a year ago I lost someone. I just know that in one year, I realized that I buried my head in the sand. I realized that someone's smile could hide great suffering. I only realized in one year that I had not paid attention to the person who made my existence special.

A year ago, one life passed away and another one realized that she was as ordinary as anyone else living on this Earth.