"Jete tomay debona."
"I won't let you go."
During mourning, singing can become an elevated form of wailing. How can something sung so sweetly sting the heart like a blade and bring forth emotions I did not know existed in me? Our hearts are these giant, never-ending reservoirs of pain and sadness. I could cry a million times, and there would still be tears left.
But I guess there will always be laughter too. Even in her immense misery, my mother has laughed with me. "You can cut all the flowers, but you cannot keep spring from coming." Come soon.