It wasn't today; March 9th holds no special meaning for me. It was this weekend however, this weekend three years ago. It works out perfectly because Ash Wednesday happened to fall on the week before the anniversary, just like it did that year. March 2011. The weekend after Ash Wednesday on March 2011.
I was always a big fan of Ash Wednesday, when I was little it was all about who got the darkest ashes on their foreheads and who had the best sacrifice for Lent. The thing I love most, though, was the song. Not all the Ash Wednesday songs are great, in fact I think most of them are on the more dull side of things, but I was blessed enough to have the one song I love be played almost every year I was in school. It's the song that goes
We rise again from ashes, from the good we've failed to do.
We rise again from ashes to create ourselves anew,
If all our world is ashes, then must our lives be true
From an offering of ashes, an offering to you
Now, I'm not delusional, I know I could never sing any other place other than my shower, but that never stopped me from singing that song. I would always sing it for weeks after Ash Wednesday because I absolutely adored it. That's what I was singing when I checked my phone on Saturday morning three years ago, March 11, 2011.
I see a couple of missed calls and a text message from my friend. The message read "Camila I'm so sorry I really didn't want to tell you this over text but Mrs. Mansilla died last night." I stopped singing. I stopped thinking. I stopped breathing. No part of me was working. I walked into my kitchen and did the only thing I could do, call my other friend to let her know. That's when I started crying; luckily I was alone in my house. What else could I do now? Everyone I knew was probably flooding the family with messages and condolences, but I was stuck at home with no way to get to them yet, so I sang. Thankfully no one was around to hear me, singing and crying don't mix very well, but that is all I could do to keep from completely breaking down. I had to be strong for my friend, for all of my friends. So until I could do something else, something more, something helpful, I sang.
