Shelter,
by Leonor Henríquez

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      The lady entered the room accompanied by one of the volunteers.

We had been warned that one of the participants in the event was blind.

I had already taken my place at the podium when she arrived with her cane and a huge sadness in her eyes. My kind companion placed her right in front of me.

I smiled at her instinctively, I think that smiles are perceived without needing to be seen. I thought I saw the hint of one on her face.

Just before the session began, I heard she said to the person next to her that she was cold.

I remembered that I had a green shawl in my purse, so I proceeded to take it out and offer it to her.

She took it gratefully and wrapped herself in it.

The exposition on grief began.

I have been a volunteer for almost seven years at a support centre for people who have lost loved ones. (Bob Glasgow Grief Support Centre)

That night, the solemn room was packed.

As Oscar Wilde said, “Where there is pain, there is a sacred ground.”

It was my turn to speak and tell my experience of grief.

I saw myself in that woman surrounded by darkness, that of her eyes and that of her sorrow, curled up in my shawl, holding back her tears.

I always end my brief intervention with a poem in memory of my wonderful husband.

I finished by saying that, if there is one thing I have learned about grief, it is that no matter how dark the path one travels, love remains intact.

The four volunteers wrapped the session. The audience, applauded with emotion.

The blind lady took off the green shawl and returned it to me with words of gratitude.

I could see some light in her eyes, also a smile.

I hope that my cloak with the color of hope has provided her with some shelter.

“To die is to withdraw, to step aside,
to hide for a moment, to stay still,
to take the air from one shore to the other
and to be everywhere in secret.”

Jaime Sabines

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