To you who do not think on stop looking and who learned to live without a piece of your heart, that one that still beats with as much force as if your son, in his distress, gave you his heart, and you feel that inside you are two hearts beating melted into a beautiful passion;
You don't want to stop looking, although sometimes you feel you must stop, because you think it is not real, that it is a nightmare and you will wake up; that it seems that you walk in the air and you only hear a boom boom, while your pupils become bigger and your two hearts are amalgamated, and you don't know which one is yours, and which one is your son's;
To you that you don't want to stop looking, even if your forces run out, but you know that you will need them, and save your strength for when he arrives; and you fight so that the despair does not overwhelm you, and you pretend to lead a normal life, but they discover you when they tell you that time can heal everything, that you need to have patience, because you get upset, and cry, and scream, and look with eyes of madness...
To you who do not intend to stop looking because the day he returns you want him to know that you never stopped, that you never got tired, that you took good care of his bleeding heart, and you will put it in his hand with your soul dejected pursuing peace;
To you who die every day and that in May you have nothing to celebrate, because for you nothing was the same again, because you miss his affection, his presence, his smell, his being; and you talk to him and beg him to have the strength to return, because your breath and his breath will meet in an endless embrace of love and ... love;
To you who cry to your virgin, to your saint, to your God, and you drown in tears and in pain, I do not have much to tell you ... I just want to give you a word: HOPE.
From one of our writers: Sofia Machacado
