Tag Archives: death

Pedrito’s 30 Days with ICE.Fictional Memoir

Pedrito’s Diary, Day 15

February 5, 2025

I woke up to a quiet hangar. It looked like everyone was asleep. I thought of the baby. The last time I heard her cries was yesterday afternoon. Why would they take a baby from the mother? Babies need special care. I know it from Mama’s tender care of Gabriela. Who would separate a baby and a mother? Why?

All these questions on my mind stopped when I saw Gabriel’s arms stretched into the air. His eyes were still closed. “Mama, Papa, I’m cold. Hold me!” He was sleeping next to me. I hugged him tightly. “It’s okay, Gabriel. I’m here. Everything is going to be okay.” He opened his tearful eyes, sat up and hugged me back so very tightly. “We will be okay, right Pedrito?” He was looking intensely into my eyes. “Yes, Gabriel. Yes, we will be okay!”

“Gabriel, do you need to pee before breakfast?” I asked him. “Yes! I need to pee a lot!” We both rushed to the back gates and from there toward the boulder. The guards knew the drill. So, they let us be. I stood a little away from the boulder like I did other times. I wanted to give Gabriel some privacy. I took a few steps when Gabriel shrieked: “Pedrito, what is this white stuff? I’m so scared!” I then heard one of the guards answer him: “That’s to cover over your number 2s. Nothing to be scared about!”

When it was my turn, I told Gabriel to wait for me up close. The smell was still horrible but it wasn’t as strong as before.

On our way to the back gates, I saw two guards talking. One of them was the woman whom I saw soon after my arrival here, the same woman who was holding a crying baby in her arms. This time, she had some kind of a bundle in her arms. The man asked her: “What’s this?” She told him not to be that loud, then answered: “She died last night. She was miserable anyway. She wasn’t taking her bottle anymore.”

I so wished I hadn’t heard all this. Worse! Gabriel also heard everything. I held his hand and hurried back to our corner. “Pedrito, what does ‘died’ mean?” I tried to hide my sadness from him but he saw it on my entire face. I quickly changed the subject: “Are you hungry, Gabriel? Breakfast will be soon. I am so very hungry!” He didn’t repeat his question, he answered mine: “Yes, Pedrito! I am very hungry!”

After all of us got our usual food and Gabriel was already eating his, I whispered to Alejandro’s ear: “Remember the baby that was crying a lot? She died last night. Gabriel heard the guards but I distracted him. You will tell your brothers, right?” Alejandro whispered the sad news into Diego’s ears. He did the same to Jose. They always treated Jesu, their youngest, like Gabriel. So, Jesu was saved from finding out the baby’s death.

© hülya n. yılmaz, February 5, 2025

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Our Elderly

We say we love them.
And we most certainly do.
Then comes the end of their time.
We are not there. We are never there.

One by one, my elderly passed away.
Today still, my heart runs astray.
Neither my mind nor my heart
Is able at any peaceful point to find
The means to console me on my own way

They face death alone . . .

Leaving an unfillable void in our soul.

(c) hülya n. yılmaz, 11.29.2019

~ ~ ~
When my last elderly has transitioned on November 26, 2019 far away from me, this poem came into being.

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. . .

“Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death.”
~
Anais Nin

anais-nin-200x259

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… just because

sigarayı, dumanını değil
kendisini bütünüyle yutarcasına
çekiyorum içime
öyle yaparsam
yeniden var olacakmışsınız gibi
hayır! hayır!
öyle flu uzaklardan ya da rüyada değil
beni aranıza sarmalamışsınız gibi
hissedeyim diye kendimi
kucaklarınız içinde yumulmuşçasına

yani
yine
bencilce

meğerse ben
nasıl bir ileri yavaşlıkta
öğrenciymişim!
ne oldu sanki
onca takdir belgesi aldım da?
bana öğretilmeye sunulanların yerine

asıl değeri olanları kulak arkası etmenin
hiç mi bir cezası yoktur sizce?
bana bunun cevabını verin, ne olursunuz
Allah Aşkına!

© hülya n. yılmaz, 8.25.2017

 

 

 

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. . .

1145-chicago-usa-trees

[Photo Credit: pdpics]

“The real question is not whether life exists after death. The real question is whether you are alive before death.” ~ Osho

 

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instead of . . .

i surprised him
the second he spotted me
behind his mommy
his little darling body
became a dance all by itself
his always smiling face
made room for even more
giggles many giggles
‘come on, grandma!’s
hand in hand
eyes locked on mine
my little enormous sunshine

‘you come to anne car’
ending in 1/3 of a question mark
with my yes already in his shiny heart

leaving his pre-school

amid the two grown women’s chatter
as untainted as out-of-this-world
as a human voice can ever be
“I love you, grandma!”

. . .

i love him so
his little sister too
that each such moment takes my breath away
but then together we all get to breathe again
laugh cry eat drink celebrate sleep be loved again

and on the many other ends of our truly splendid world
because of the few but contagious sick and sickening minds
under their equally plagued but money-pouring hands
children die
die
die
die
die again
again
again
again
die again

© hülya n. yılmaz (4.6.2017)

With a lump in my throat for the millions of children killed “[i]n the past ten years, as a result of armed conflict,” for the millions who “have been disabled, […] are homeless, and […] have become separated from their caregivers.” From: The Invisible Trauma of War-Affected Children (My quotes’ source, a post by Robert T. Muller, Ph.D. dates back to April 27, 2013. Close to four years later, the numbers of the so-called “casualties of war” do not need a scientific reference, do they?)

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. . .

11079659_10153219946689711_2308223597785260993_nCandayım, Mahmut Oğuz Ergün, Dr. Med. (5.7.1931-3.28.2015)

what telling stories did you embroider
in the tapestry of our family tree

your Life-support system was unplugged too hastily…

© hülya n. yılmaz, 3.30.2015

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Before love, even death bows down

do you

fear death

i still do

that of my loved ones that is

 

when the heartbreak is too much to surpass

my memory box takes me by surprise

 

and i realize . . .

how even death bows down before love

 

© hülya n. yılmaz, 2.12.2016

≈ ≈ ≈

This poem appeared as one of my three poetry contributions for the March 2016 issue of The Year of the Poet III, a monthly international anthology published by Inner Child Press, Ltd. and consists of poems by eighteen writers, with between two and three featured new poets each month.

 

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…a mid-week musing…

1-Sinop.Baz 11 (2016_02_29 05_30_22 UTC)-001

Photo Credit: Self

Date: Summer 2005

Location: Ada, Sinop – Turkey

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…a mid-week musing…

pencilin in death

Photo Credit: Self

Date: Summer 2005

Location: Ada, Sinop – Turkey

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