The setting sun touched her face, warm, golden, perfect. Mercedes closed her eyes for a moment to enjoy the breeze. And then, she saw him. She wasn't dreaming. He was there, standing among the rosebushes, just like in the park that rainy day. Jesus. He no longer wore a humble robe, but shone with a light that didn't hurt her eyes. He smiled at her with those infinite eyes, extending his hand. “Well done, good and faithful servant,” she heard in her heart, not with her ears. “You have been faithful over a little; I will set you over much. Enter into the joy of your Lord . ”
Mercedes smiled. A smile that would forever be etched on her face. She breathed her last with the gentleness of a falling petal. Without pain. Without fear. Only peace.
When Carolina went to give her mother some cake, she thought she had fallen asleep. "Mom... Mom, wake up..." She touched her hand. It was warm, but still. Carolina understood. She didn't scream. She didn't panic. She just hugged her mother and cried softly, giving thanks. "Go in peace, Mommy," she whispered in Mercedes' ear. "You've already shown us the way. Go see Him."
Doña Mercedes Álvarez left, but her house never closed. Carolina and Rodrigo, though they never rekindled their romance, became the guardians of that refuge. And those who pass by that street in San Ángel say that on rainy afternoons, when the sky turns gray, a special warmth is felt as you pass through that gate. As if someone, from heaven, were embracing those who are cold.
END.
