Taking care of some financial business today and as a result, my father's death certificate came up. It's this long sheet of paper with the type of design on it that makes it look like an old-timey piece of paper. The paper itself has a yellowish hue, and there is some kind of green design on the borders, it reminded me of those wrought iron gates that have turned green over the years making the design appear like greenery stretching across the space it occupies.
I slid it over towards me, and my eyes danced across the information printed on the page but not registering any of it. The cause was sepsis, the date, I must have looked at the date four times and all I can tell you is that it was in September of 2021. Santos Rafael Ramos Guzman.
It doesn't feel like it was that long ago. Time is all mashed together in my brain, moving faster and slower at the same time. My history with my father is not a secret. We weren't on speaking terms when he died, and to be honest, if he was alive we still wouldn't be. I don't know why seeing this document gave me pause. I guess the finality of it settled.
My first thoughts were of my grand...mi abuela. The weird way grief must randomly grip her as she struggles with Alzheimers. Having lost my grandfather and my father, her only son, within a year or so of each other all while battling a disease that robs you of your reality. Passing thoughts of her possibly having moments throughout the day where she looks for them and she has to be told they are no longer here, over and over. The heartbreak that must be lived over and over again.
It brought up feelings that I can't really put into words.
This coming on the heels of a random memory of him made today rough. I don't know if it was a random message from the universe, a coincidence, or a warning. Maybe it was nothing.
I don't know anymore.
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