She clung to a thread of consciousness and mentally repeated over and over again: I am, I am, I am. Precisely who she was, she was unable to say. (5.440)
You'd think that dying would be a process of unbecoming, but instead it seem like Macabéa is trying to become something in death. The repetition of "I am" emphasizes that death is giving her a new opportunity to be fully herself—and yet she can't even finish the sentence.