Life, Death and Iguanas

On the fifth day of January of this year, I knocked on the guest bedroom door and begged for help.

I was entering another panic attack.

And I knew very little, except that the person who would open the door would stay with me, fight for me, and move heaven and earth—and even hell—to get me out of it.

It was Taí. Who sat on the floor and held my hand and then called my doctor and then emergency rooms and then all her friends who might know a shrink and then called Raf and then put me into a cab and then…

Do I have to go on? She’s wonderful, she always is. It was the day before a major holiday, and Puerto Rico was more chaotic than usual. Christmas time, as well, seems to increase the difficulty of life here.

I got out of it. I pulled myself together. I could do all that by the good fortune of a good family, the love of a good man, the help of a good shrink, and…

A woman ten islands down the Caribbean who has given me gifts as varying as constant love and support to the actual desk I’m writing this on.

Franny grew philosophical at the end, seeing so many of her friends die. But also seeing new people come into her life, almost until the very end.

It’s hard to lose a mother.

But it’s wonderful to gain a sister.

Happy birthday, Taí!