7 days have passed, Victoria, since with your classmates I was following with his eyes clouded with tears in which a coffin, they said, you were there - there were your 17 years, your humor, your look, your professionalism, your discretion, your joy, your projects, your affections: everything about you, after 15 months of chemotherapy , bone marrow transplants and much more that could not save you from this September afternoon, our tears, flowers, accompanied by a procession that has you in silence, with dismay.
I know the place where you lived your fourth year of high school, and also the room that last occupied the sight. So many things that no one can understand except you and your parents, your classmates, your nurse. For example, certain joys incredible, unimaginable, that there are only life, and pain that can not be described.
I followed at a distance, all this time I knew where you were, what you lived. You did not need me. Some sms, facebook ... "I want to go casaaaaaaa !!!!", wrote.
There was little of you in that coffin: almost nothing, barely a footprint. Where you live, now, is multiplied by what you are, and what have you been for us not measure. We are not having to remember: what you can do for our memory? It's you who can remember us - yes, really do much.
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