Contos/ Tales

A morte e a estrela

POLI_ALM07

 

Read the story below “The death and the star”, which was published in O Popular newspaper (March 25th, 2012).

The death and the star

Everyone will become a star one day. My grandpa became the biggest star in the world, I was told the day he died. Well, I know you may find it very strange. I also thought so. But in the day that joy picked up all its toys and games and left with my grandpa, this was what I was told.

That day sadness was my only companion. However, when I was told that my grandpa became a star, I soon stopped weeping. Suddenly, despite my sadness, my own curiosity as anxious as it could be began to poke my imagination.

I thought: if my grandpa died and became a star, thus death becomes a star? How strange, death doesn’t resemble at all with the stars in the sky.Even my grandpa’s smile resembled much more a star than death does. However, if my grandpa no longer smiles, how could he become a star? Death and a star are quite different…

Seen from far away, the star is so small. I can see it, but I can’t touch. However, death is so huge that does not fit in my eyes. It is my heart that sees it, it is my heart that touches it.

The star appears almost every night. Death, at least when it hasn’t yet become a star, it appears when we don’t expect it. Actually, I don’t think anyone expects death, even though she is always around the corner. What we really expect are starry nights. After all, “starry nights, sunny days”, as my grandpa used to say.

You know, death reminds me of those nights when I woke up scared in my bedroom, fearing so much the dark that I couldn’t get up from bed to turn on the light. After all, death seems to me a dark room with the lights off. It might be for this reason that death becomes a star. Maybe death just wants to light up the dark room that it is imprisoned in. 

Well, maybe death is not so insensible as we think. Deep inside, what it desires is to wipe out its loneliness with a star shine twinkles.

If death becomes a star then, I wanted to find out which star my grandpa became. And guess what they told me? “He is the biggest star in the sky.” At this point, I was so confused. Isn’t the sun the biggest star? Death was already so different from the star, but even more different from the sun.

The sun is so bright, we can’t barely look at it. Looking at death does not hurt our eyes, but it is so painful. Starring at the sun hurts but doesn’t cause any pain. How complicated is to understand death! After all, it is nice to imagine that death becomes a star in a starry night. But what happens during nights where there are no stars? I wonder if death dies again. Oh, no, who could possibly bear death twice? I wonder if even the stars need death to born once again every night.

I am really beginning to think that death is not a child’s business; maybe it is just for adults. But then again, it seems that the adult who explained me what death becomes doesn’t understand anything about death, neither about stars. Even I, as a child, knew that death is born already with its lights off and stars shine all the time. How come one becomes the other? Maybe death desires to be born and when it does, it has so much willing to leave that shines. Hum, maybe death does become a star. Maybe I will never find out what happens to death. But one thing I know, my grandpa would love to become a star. Or, was he a star disguised in a grandpa?

 

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