We urged her to write her memoirs, but she never got around to doing it. You can see how what little I remember of her life story would have been an amazing thing to tell the world.
Also my ex-mother, being her sole child, inherited all of her photos and papers. I don't have much left from her in that department. Lots of stuff is missing from her life story, that I'll never know about.
And then came March 8th, 2006. The stupidest sh*t.
She fell on the floor of her bathroom. Couldn't get up. Spent a few hours there until my then-sister found her.
Sonia was brought to the hospital and she spent, I believe, a bit over a week there. Half-conscious on her better days.
Things went downhill pretty fast.
Had all kinds of machines around... She stopped eating. She stopped everything.
I think the pride kicked in again, and she didn't want to live like that, to be treated like that, to be seen like that.
My then-mother said she had refused to see me. A few months prior, we'd had a fight, and my ex-mother said that Sonia was still mad.
I try to believe it was not just that. I try to believe she didn't want me to see her like that.
One afternoon my then-mother let me come to the hospital. I stood a few meters away, in the hospital's hallway, seeing Sonia from afar through a window. That was the last time.
Sonia turned her head, and almost saw me, but my mother told me to hide. So I hid and... I'll never know if it'd been ok to say hello anyway. To say sorry anyway. To say thank you anyway.
I wanted to stay. I was unemployed at the time, I could easily have stayed there, you know...? To be with her when ?
My ex-mother didn't let me. She instructed the nurse to call her when Sonia would go, or later the next morning if she'd leave during the night.
And that was it. She was left there. The woman was a force of nature and she died all alone.
