By Wilfredo Arriola
The way to understand each other perhaps came too late, perhaps it lay in letting him be who he was and him letting me be who I am. Although that could also mean that understanding each other was a way of leaving us alone, which was and will continue to be two ways of being united in complicity and distance.
We admired each other in silence as he was truly authentic – speaking well of the other behind his back – he spoke well of me and I shared his wisdom with humor. Being together in this last part was not possible, he already knew that he did not have much time and he did not want to steal the time of others from his trench, not caring that she was his son. He was a worthy respecter of other people’s time. We talked more on the phone than in person, he warned me about the road and always assumed that safety was in doubt. While it is true that relief and happiness are very similar things, this time, when relief comes, it has not resulted in happiness but in a way of facing the world without a father. Soon life was too late, as Duras said, soon what he predicted was gone or ended up being something else.
I have sat where you used to sit to understand you from your perspective, nor do I want to take responsibility for your joy or your misfortune, not because I am a coward but because I am honest and for doing moderately what you would have done, which is, without a doubt, letting the another receives what he has to receive. As you said: if there is something worse than being bad, it is being fair, those of us close to you knew it.
You were what you wanted to be and what you didn’t, may life forgive you. If there is something that brings joy to your parents, it is seeing their children with pride. I know that you dress each one of them like this, in your own way, in your style, which was always to remain silent in the face of what you did not know how to express. I knew and understood that the best way to share our triumphs and defeats was to tell you with pride about what has made us happy and to tell you with rudeness and personality the things that we cannot change. That you saw us strong even satisfied you more than seeing us happy. In its probability, your life was that, knowing that you were strong rather than knowing that you were happy.
I write from the resignation of your death, in the place where we comment many times. Today without you, but one of the two dead must be left standing, and that is the one he writes.
This is life Flavio, this is life… this was life. We respected each other’s secrets and that’s how I understood loyalty, we talked to each other face to face and maybe you knew how to keep quiet in the end. I appreciate your silence, you heard yourself in my voice, you knew that arguing with those you love is nothing other than exhausting the only true trench.
We were saved from death at 3 in the morning not once, not twice, but as many… with our fists we said goodbye, like the rock that friends become. We did not see each other again when we separated, we both know that seeing the destroyed is another way of continuing their misfortune. We avoided each other with our glances, but I know we both knew it, death was near. I didn’t say it, nor did you say it, with your boots on without feeling sorry, which for you was the best support. You never sponsored weak children.
Death is always cowardly, it leaves us with confusion, a memory and these words that are not and are not intended to be an obituary about his life or my sorrow. I only wanted to put this level of anguish into words – I know not to confuse writings with confessions. Death teaches a lot and reveals so many secrets that we never knew about people who are no longer here, I didn’t know theirs and those who did, are with me standing guard in his memory, as I also know that he kept mine. Maybe we owed ourselves more, or we didn’t give ourselves what we should, I don’t know and I will never know.
Now comes silence like everything. When faced with the most important things in life we are always alone but sometimes, more alone than others. Losing a parent means reinventing loneliness, because not having someone to call on in grief or joy also counts as another degree of loneliness. One is the one who calls him when he is afraid. I didn’t do it anymore, but how many times you saved me… and that is an indelible bond that stays within me.
It’s okay, Flavio, it’s okay… go in peace, things will continue here as always, as you did in the privacy of everything you predicted. I don’t know if I have lived up to being a good son, but without reproach, you lived up to being a good father. Come on, we will continue as always: “without any clue to the enemies…” as you said, as I will, even on the last day as you asked me.
Without tears.
See you always dad.
February 16, 2024
#Flavio #died #friend #died
