I am Dead, But My Love for You Remains

"Yara's mother is here!"

Someone shouted. Michael and John both came out immediately.

The guard was helping my mother in.

Her hair had turned gray around her temples, and she was wearing the floral jacket my father had bought her.

My mother had aged so much these past years.

She walked unsteadily, as if she might fall at any moment.

"Mrs. Garcia, why are you here?" someone asked.

"Where's John?" she replied, looking around anxiously.

"I'm here," John said softly.

Mom took John's hand, and Michael observed them with a thoughtful expression.

"Has Yara been with you lately? It's my birthday today. I waited for her all day, but she never came back. Yesterday, she said she would take me on a trip..." Mom's voice trailed off.

Michael gently pushed John aside and stepped closer to my mother.

"Mrs. Garcia, I’m Michael, Yara’s friend. Do you remember me?"

"Yes, yes, I do!" she replied.

"Mrs. Garcia, Yara didn’t come home yesterday, did she? She booked a ticket to the beach but didn’t get on the bus, right?"

Were they finally piecing it together?

For the sake of our child, John should at least buy me a grave.

Would he bury me next to my father?

But then, would I owe him another favor?

Forget it then.

Maybe it was best to leave things unsettled.

After all, in death, did it matter where we rest?

"Yara hasn't come back yet. She was supposed to pick me up last night. Isn’t she here? I thought she was with John," my mother said, confused.

"Did she..."

Michael began, but John interrupted, shoving him aside.

"Michael, what are you trying to say? Do you think the body lying there is Yara's? She values her life more than anyone. Maybe she’s just off somewhere, eating, drinking, and having fun."

Everyone stared at John, and he grew irritated under their gazes.

"Fine, you don’t believe me? Let’s go see for ourselves," John snapped.

He grabbed my mother and stormed inside.

My mother's crutches fell off.

"Touch her, touch her, is this your daughter?"

Behind John were all criminal police.

They all looked at my mother nervously.

John ripped the white sheet off my body. The bright lights in the room made the scene even harsher.

didn’t want my mother to see me like this.

John, how could you?

"Is this Yara?" John asked.

My mother reached out and touched me, her hands trembling.

Having been married to a forensic doctor, she must have known what this place was.

As I silently thanked fate that my mother couldn’t see, her hand brushed against my bracelet.

That was...given to me by my mother.

She began to cry, and John looked away, swallowing hard.

"Why are you crying? Really, why did I bring a blind woman in here? Take her out."

John said, rubbing his forehead as he walked out.

"Your daughter isn't here, go home."

But my mother’s sobs grew louder.

"No, my daughter is right here," she insisted.

My heart sank.

My mother had recognized me.

John tried to drag her away.

"What nonsense are you talking about? You can't even see anything. Get out of here," he said harshly.

But my mother clung to the dissecting table, refusing to leave. Her eyes were wide open, desperate for one last look at me.

I know that my mother wants to see me for the last time.

'Mother, I don’t want you to see me like this.'

John continued to pull her away, but she held on tightly, her nails digging into the table so hard that her fingertips began to bleed.