—Mom, Joaquín just died.
—I know, but you are strong.
So I buried my husband almost alone. Solana, my best friend, was with me. Joaquín’s classmates really cried. My parents, Verónica and Rubén, arrived late, sat in the back and left quickly.
Mateo remained in a coma for 6 months. I read to him, I talked to him about baseball, I told him that his dad would be proud. My family visited him three times, always in a hurry.
And one morning in July, Dr. Medrano called me.
—Mrs. Herrera, I need you to come to the hospital immediately.
When I saw his face in the hallway, I knew my last reason to keep breathing the same was gone too.
Mateo had died an hour earlier.
