I’ve been in ‘seclusion’ for a few days now, where the little strength I have is enough to rest, think and manage a slow and painful resilience. At the same time, so much free time makes me relive bitter, unjust and painful moments over and over again, looking for alternatives. If the signs exist, why didn’t they announce to me what would later change the course of my life?

I wish the universe would give me back my life. I want to return to the world I created, that no one would allow themselves to tear out my heart and that my heartbeat would not be a war drum that feels impotent in the face of the slowness of justice. When I see media trials, they are quick and avoid the pain of slowness. Our justice, in some cases gives voice to what happens making consciences stir, but in others, patience is confused with conformism and that is nothing. I see so much suffering, shared phrases of mothers for their sons and daughters who lost their lives, in their wombs, in their arms, in a hospital bed, in a car, … so much shared pain and I follow the furrow marked by others before me, and that is how it is to pass through, reflections of other mothers who feel within themselves those cells that were united to one and that in some way are still there.

We promise to do justice for Oscar and for all those people who have passed and will pass through those operating theatres at Clínica Teknon, in that operating theatre number 7, for those hands that did not respect or take responsibility, hands to which I gave his life, my life and the lives of all those who had the honour and now the pain of having known him and lost him. Justice for those who continue to deserve respect, justice and impeccable work, patients we call ourselves… that is what I am learning the most, to be patient, because I hope that one day I will be able to shout out how much I feel, how much I know and how much I keep silent.

I remember seeing Rafa Nadal enter the Teknon Clinic on the same day and at the same time that hands were taking care of Oscar in operating room 7. How painful to think that there are first-rate people, where a thousand and one attentions are given without a second thought. Others, bad luck, tiredness, an evening work schedule, or simply thinking more about the Easter holidays than the care of those who were there, without oxygen… 30 minutes without oxygen… that was your only responsibility. Each one of those who were investigated, and those who will come, I know the name of each one of you, one after another… I wish with all my soul that you do not forget the name of Oscar Hurtado Rodríguez who passed through your hands at the age of 18 completely healthy and didn’t return home. Remember also my name Montse Rodríguez Resina, a courageous mother who has no other project left in her life than to achieve criminal, social and public justice. I do not keep quiet, I do not hide, with all my mistakes and my faults, with all my truth and with everything I experienced there in your Hospital, the one that wanted to silence so many mouths.

Blindfold yourselves and bear the scales of justice and truth until your arms fall limp under the weight of what is just and true. Let the double-edged sword of reason and justice fall upon those who were unable to hold the scales and opened their eyes to selfishness and cowardice. I will keep my eyes blindfolded by faith that justice will be impartial, blind to the money, power or identity of those on trial. May justice not blind those who are claimed.

The paragraph where I wrote about lawyers, experts, doctors and surgeons, … I will leave it for later, the disgust I feel at the reactions of cowardice, lack of speech and impunity are so repulsive that they deserve a separate chapter.

And here I am locked up at home for other reasons that make me think and think. This tug-of-war about letting go or taking charge of my life, nothing matters and it’s all worth it.

I would tear the heart out of the shadows that flood my dreams, and between clouds the rainbow would appear, glimpsing the silhouette of my angel, the one to whom I ask for signs, strength and courage. My poor child, and I still demand and get angry because he doesn’t let me see him as I would like and I struggle to think that he is in everything wonderful that surrounds me.

How to placate this madness, this yearning for a justice that is slow. A quietness and a calm that my soul longs for. To be able to express every thought throughout the day, to express it in ink and to move on in a way that allows me to breathe fresh air, to smell life and to sip it. What I would give for the moment to regain my strength, to embrace the good things in life and understand that what happened was so, and to accept it without resignation and turn it into an opportunity for change, self-improvement and empowerment. When that moment comes… I will allow myself to go slowly, I want everything to come in its own time, I want to go through everything that is moving me now, but little by little, one day at a time, because I can’t take it all in.

I know that now I do not live the life that I divulge, a legacy of my son who showed that living without reservations by giving everything is living, that NOW is the most important thing, and I am not fulfilling it. I know that my body, my soul and my mind refuse to continue in this life without him and my internal, constant and daily struggle is to overcome this madness, this loneliness and see the beauty of life and be able to keep giving and showing a smile. I trust that everything will come. Every night tears accompany me and I wish for a dream, to relive moments lived and to fight to convince myself that it is worthwhile to choose how to go on in this life, with little pieces of it.

One day at a time.