By Lose Lavalle
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Additional resources for Eloise: Letters to a Lost Child
But it was never said out loud. More than once we were tempted: pneumonia without antibiotics, refusal of a catheter, unadjusted anticonvulsant medication. But from within your prison it was you, Eloise, who decided you wanted to continue, and we accepted your decision, allowing you to stay on this side of life. Six months after your death, I often go to the cemetery ELOISE, LETTERS TO A LOST CHILD 55 and walk around your ashes in a sort of sad waltz. I so much want you to come and warm me. ^Ves, I know.
46 LOISE LAVALLEE Today is the beginning of March. Do you remember how March was always your worst month? In a way, I am glad that you don't have to negotiate springtime once again. I remember that last March, how you had already decided that you had had enough, that you would not continue to live as you were. It took eight more months for you to decide definitively, and for us, your parents, to accept that it was time for you to leave us. Even though you died in October, it was in that same springtime that you started to slowly disappear.
These are the hours when the imagination runs like wild horses, when the heart beats in a body so aware of itself. It is also a time when the rooms of the soul open up one by one, banging open their doors; when the windows of desire give onto infinite possibility. Only when everything sleeps peacefully can my deliriousness and wildness rise—there is no one to bring them into line. I want to go barefoot in the snow. I want to breathe in the cold, dry February air. The door opens on a mysterious space and I go forward into the icy snow, my heart full of desire.