Writer Flavia Camargo is releasing her autobiography “Quatro Letras”, a tribute to her son Igor, who died due to complications during pregnancy. In the work, divided into ten chapters with four-letter words, Flavia shares profound reflections on motherhood, grief and spirituality, seeking to comfort other families who are facing the loss of loved ones. With a sensitive approach, the author explores the pain of saying goodbye and the strength of transforming the memory of a son into inspiration to become a better person.
What was the process like of writing such an intimate autobiography, which addresses moments of so much love and pain?
It was a gesture of giving. A desire to give to the world what I would have liked to have received, because at a time of fragility I realized that it is really important to know that others care about us. Going out on the street and seeing that everything is the same, despite our world having fallen apart, is a difficult feeling, one that makes us feel small. I wanted to write a book that would speak to the reader, bringing comfort. It was what I could leave for the next people who in the future would be in my place, so that they would know that they are not the only ones who have felt what I felt. And, since I do not know where these people are, my words are my representatives, giving them the hug that I wanted to give them.
What inspired you to organize the work into chapters with four-letter words? Does each of them have a special meaning for you?
The inspiration came to me when I was walking around his room after coming home from the hospital. I was looking at the objects he would no longer use, and among them was a plaque with his name on it. It caught my attention because it was a short word, but it didn’t need more than four letters to encompass such a great meaning for me. This reminded me of other four-letter words that also mean a lot. I remembered several of them and selected the ones I considered the most beautiful to be the titles of the chapters of the book, because I knew that, given all the love that remained after he passed away, they certainly related to our story.
Your experience with Hellp syndrome was very difficult. How did you find the strength to turn this experience into a book?
For me, talking about the most dangerous moments of my life, when I was close to death, is neither unpleasant nor scary. It is a valuable reminder of the opportunity I had to continue here. I didn’t need strength to write about the health problem I went through, because I see this event as a reminder of the gift of being able to wake up every day. And the purpose of using my story as help was an inevitable move, since I had already been following my path as a writer for a long time before that. So, for someone who loves to write and has the habit of putting what she learns from life into the content of her works, the decision to dedicate a book just to this experience was something natural.
You mentioned that you heard hurtful phrases during this difficult time. How do you think we can better support people who are grieving?
I think the best way to welcome someone is to validate their emotions. Don’t try to impose ready-made formulas or repeat catchphrases that end up silencing those who need to vent. Show genuine interest in listening to what the person has to say, without judgment, demands or comparisons. Recognize that each pain is unique. And be careful not to overdo it by trying to minimize the circumstances, so that excessive mitigating factors don’t have the effect of trivializing the loss.
The book brings a message of transforming pain. How has this vision helped you move forward and keep Igor’s memory alive?
When Igor died, my lap was empty and my heart was full. I realized that missing him would never make me go back to who I was before. Our bond, once established, was unchangeable. Death does not have the power to undo a bond. Then, I realized that exercising motherhood was not a matter of choice. It was already defined from the moment I carried him. From then on, there was only one path: to be a mother. However, faced with his absence, I would have to be a mother in a different way, without seeing, without hearing, without touching. I could not use my physical senses to relate to him, but I knew that we would continue to have a relationship, since he would remain in my thoughts. It was painful to think about what I could not do with him, but the pain gave way to satisfaction, as I began to focus my energies on the inner life that human beings have the prerogative to live, which occurs in the intimacy of their soul, the place where he is with me.
How do you hope the book “Four Letters” can help other mothers and families who are also dealing with loss?
I hope that my story, which tells of the mental movements I made, the existential concepts I built, the reflections that helped me find a lighter path, serves as an example of what other people can also do, according to what is compatible with their own concepts of life, to develop new perspectives on what hurts them, so that memories can awaken more gratitude than sadness.
What has changed in you as a person and writer after this transformative experience of motherhood and grief?
I have become more empathetic and uninhibited. By making myself available to talk to many strangers, I have developed a greater ability to fight shyness. I have more courage to expose myself, to risk not having control over what people will think of me. It is an effort, but it is worth it, for the benefits I reap. This way, I have been able to meet new friends, people who are cultivating unconditional love and through them I have come into contact with attitudes that prove to me that there are many good people in the world.
Your next book, “Another You”, aims to address deep issues for children. How did the idea of addressing these issues through a children’s book come about?
One day I felt the need to convey to children this message that I have assimilated from life, about losses. Realizing that losses occur successively throughout our journey and that there is no way to escape them, the secret is to know how to manage their effects when they happen. And the easiest way I found to introduce the concept of losses to children, showing that they are natural and do not need to be seen as punishments or misfortunes, was the passage of time itself, which transforms our bodies at each age. From the understanding that we lose our child’s body to gain our adult body, I led the reader to realize that change is an event that puts one thing in the place of another. Thus, there is never just one thing that goes away, without something that also arrives and that can also be good.
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