Andrea Puente-Catán

What Keeps Life and Death Separated?

2020

After April of 2011, when my husband, Mexican opera composer Daniel Catán, died suddenly from a heart attack, the worlds from the living and the dead became blurred by a thin transparent film. Four days after his passing, I started to have recurrent dreams.

I am touching the orchids that are blossoming in a big tree. I see that I feel them from one side, and that Daniel is touching them from the other side. It is strange, but we are touching the same flower. He smiles at me. I smile back. I feel nostalgic, and I feel melancholy, sadness.

Suddenly, I am lying down, and the wind comes in. The temperature is very comfortable. I am lying down on the floor with my arms open and straight legs. I feel that I am the foundation of my house. I still see the transparent film that separates the orchids.

I feel calm, peaceful. I have these dreams for ten years, but this is the first time that I feel serene, accepting that it is possible that the living and the dead share the same transparent veil, the same orchids and sky.