In Dexter

Debora Morgan was promoted lieutenant. In a conversation with her brother, she expressed her sadness for not having her father around to see her success. She looked up to her father, and worked hard to be like him and to be acknowledged by him. I could totally relate to Debora’s feelings.

In my life

My mother was one of the people I admired the most, and earning her approval was a huge part of my life. In my case, however, there is one more void. My mother was always my cheerleader, the person who knew my goals, who helped me think and rethink them, and who celebrated with me each little accomplishment.


The moment I had dreaded for a long time, the moment when she would be gone, came in the end of May. I had cried her loss a million times before, and I cried a million more after she died. My summer, however, was a roller coaster of grief and excitement, since I lost my mother one month after I had my first and only baby. We were kept busy, having family come to visit, traveling to visit family, spending great moments with friends. Most of all, I had this little light to take care of, my little treasure.

At times, however, his very existence reminds me that she is gone because she left without giving me the chance to introduce her in person to my greatest feat. The pain I feel for this cuts deep and squeezes my heart, pouring random tears of sadness in moments of happiness.


Tonight I thought of her as I read to my baby boy. Like her, one of the characters – a talking rag doll she loved – is willful, brilliant, and changes names of people and places. I smiled remembering that when mom visited me in February she renamed Fred Meyer, the supermarket: it became Fred Mercury, the same way she had renamed the mall near her home in Sao Paulo, calling it Monteiro Lobato instead of Villa Lobos.


I miss my mother so much! I miss her sensibility, her aristocratic stance, her stern tone, her gentle touch, her strong presence. But I think what hurts the most is the idea of “never”. Never be able to hug her again, never be able to share doubts or accomplishments with her again, never be able to completely make sense of being a mom by exchanging experiences with her.

Although there are wonderful people in my life, my mom was the one person that could always completely relate to what I was feeling, however insignificant it might seem to the untrained heart. I will miss that certainty.

I no longer fear, but it does sadden me to realize I need to grow up now and do it all by myself.

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