Paula

Paula is on the right, my sister Brigitte on the left, and my niece Vero.

Tuesday was the anniversary of the death of my eldest sister Paula. It’s funny, about a week ago I saw a movie with Nicole Kidman titled: “Margot at the Wedding.” In it, a brunette Kidman. I was surprised by how much this actress resembled my sister, although the former had large, light brown eyes.
Even the facial expressions seemed uncannily similar.

This morning I went with my mom to leave pink roses at her grave. While I was freezing my ass off in the light rain, I recalled how when they were about to close her casket, I insisted I cover her body with a plush Korean blanket. The one I had bought for her when she was in the hospital fighting cancer. She had complained that she was so cold there. Even when so close to death, and her body ravaged by the disease and the chemo - which ultimately progressed to her brain - she looked ethereally beautiful. She looked almost angelic and at peace, as if resigned to her fate; while knowing this was not the end for her.

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Perhaps making her corpse comfortable with the plush blanket, is symbolic of my ancestors. The Inca's burial rituals included sending departing ones to the next life with food, and prized possessions. For me, it symbolized hope that it would ameliorate the coldness and darkness of the casket.

I know...silly me.