The Moment of Death
written by: Marie-Thérèse Hartwig
It is done now. It is complete.
What does it all mean then? What can it all mean?
The moment my daughter slid out of me, a red and slimy worm and I whispered I love you. The moment my future husband slid into me for the first time with a small dull pain that surprised me.
Or the moment Ecstasy rushed to my head and everything widened and buzzed.
Or that time in the psychiatric hospital when my father had just left and I cried and cried because he denied my reality so vehemently. My red-haired girlfriend kneeled before me holding my hands and kept saying: Please don’t die, please don’t die.
When I broke up with a man and his tears fell down his cheeks in big drops and I felt my heart breaking. After that it was okay because, truly, a heart can only break once and what a relief to have that over and done with.
Reaching all the way back to when I realised my very first love didn’t love me anymore and that was as clear as a dead fact.
Is it all just emotions and comings and goings of lovers and friends?
I know what my grandmother looked like when she reached for me with her thin hand, skin like paper.
I know what my mother looked like when I worshipped her as a child and she squatted down to talk to me.
What does it all mean then?
I don’t know. I give up, I let go, my breath is shallow. I feel myself slipping away as if falling asleep. I let go of all the moments.
All the moments and this one.
- Depression - November 23, 2023
- The Moment of Death - July 30, 2023
