Maju Lozano wrote a moving letter, a kind of farewell to his mother, who died after several days hospitalized due to her delicate state of health: "I am here, with my mother by my side waiting for death, her death that is also a bit mine."
Her mother, Ana María Lahitte, was 83 years old and hospitalized in Paraná, the city of Entre Rios where the host of Todos las tardes grew up. From there, Maju showed his innermost feelings about the approaching end.
"It's not a wait like I expected, it's not as raw as I thought it... At times it is unbearable and maddening and at times it smells of peace and tenderness," he said.
Thousands of users reacted and empathized with Lozano, who put words to the inevitable: "I like the peace that is in the room, take care of it in solitude, united in waiting for her death. And it doesn't hurt so much for now... I'm prepared to wait for when she is."
Maju Lozano said goodbye to his mother through a letter. Photo: Instagram.
Pablo Melicchio, psychologist and author of El mundo sin mamá (Ed. Palabrava), the novel he wrote at his mother's bed during the last months of the woman's life, explained to Clarín that "when the person who brought us to life dies, a very deep dimension of mourning opens."
Beyond the natural, that we are adults and know that sooner or later our fathers and mothers will die, the process is painful: "Even if it is one and then the other falls into a great emptiness, an existential anguish. The death of parents connects with death itself, with their deaths a part of us dies."
Health problems, said the psychologist (on Instagram, @pablomelicchio), make the situation face in another way: "With a terminal or serious illness, grief is anticipated, it begins to take place."
On the other hand, when death is sudden, "mourning is more complex: death is denied, one can fall into depressive symptoms or states of great anguish, since it is more difficult to process and accept that violence of the sudden." In the latter case, he added, "grief takes longer and can melancholize that son or daughter."
This anticipation of which the professional speaks allows that "the farewell can be a time of acceptance of the reality of death". For that moment he suggested "listening to what the being who is dying wants to say or express." "Even silences and loving looks are necessary. And if there is something to tell or forgive, it is important to put words, to say to sound the unelaborated, "he closed.
Maju Lozano's full letter: "Thought with my beloved mother!"
Maju Lozano: "I'm here, with my mother by my side waiting for death, her death that is also a bit mine."
Life is one big waiting room. We live waiting for our turn... The turn of love, heartbreak, work, rest, weekend, holiday, lunch, friends, enemies.
We wait and despair and wait without expecting anything. And so life and so death. Right now I'm in the toughest waiting room I've ever had to wait. I am here with my mother by my side waiting for death, her death which is also, a little bit mine.
It's not a wait as I expected, it's not as raw as I thought it... At times it is unbearable and maddening and at times it smells of peace and tenderness. I am alone lying next to her, I waited a long time for this moment, I was overwhelmed with so many people watching over her in life!
I longed to be alone with her. I listen to his breathing that at times stops and there are seconds of immense uncertainty and a little also my breathing stops and it is an eternal pause and we start again.
The drip of morphine slowly drops and the monitoring makes a play of lights that I think I love, there's something about the rhythm of that drip, the lights and my mother's breathing that I find fascinating. They go at a rhythm and I like that, I like what happens in the silence of this wait.
I don't know what's stopping her, I've asked her countless times but I don't know if she knows either, maybe once again she's hiding a secret.
I put in her hands a rosary with the smell of roses. I don't like that smell, I don't know if she likes it either, but it's there in her hands. I look at her and I know she's not her anymore, she's so flirtatious that I'm sure she wouldn't like to look like that. If I could I would put blush on her cheeks, she doesn't like to look pale, I didn't bring blush, I didn't think she would need it.
Maju Lozano: "Death is not so romantic." Photo: Instagram
Breathe, stop and breathe. At times I want her to stop but when she stops I look at her and say 'mommy, don't be a wagon'. What's stopping her? I already told him to leave, I already did everything that doctors and psychologists recommend. Priests and nurses.
But death is that strange thing with times of its own. The unmanageable death. I wonder what I prefer, I wonder if I want me to come now that we are both alone or when my sister comes and we are the three as we always have been. I wonder if I will notice, if the room will get cold and dark or warm and bright.
Life is strange, but when death is around everything stops a little. Everything in this room is. Outside everything remains the same. The world doesn't stand still even though yours does, but it's okay that it is.
I have no reproaches towards my beloved mother, I have almost nothing to say to her, I thought it would be like in the movies, that I would talk to her a lot, that I would caress her hands and kiss her forehead. Death is not so romantic... Death is death and you live it as you can.
She's my mom and I don't feel it's necessary to tell her anything else, she knows everything, she's my mom. I like to know that she knows that I love her, this silent bridge that has been created between the two, the music of her slow breathing and that faint sound of the gadget that assists her.
I like the peace that is in the room, taking care of her in solitude, united in waiting for her death and it does not hurt so much for now ... I'm prepared to wait for when she is. Don't worry, mommy, we're here for when you decide. Come when she calls you death, you already know the way.