Bitácora
By Mauricio Vallejo Márquez
Author and editor Supplemento Tres Mil
On the eating room desk was a white T-shirt with figures of bunnies full of blood, rolled up inside it had been denims pants additionally full of blood. She was 9 years outdated and it was early morning, I feel, it may need been midnight. It was August 21, 1989, the date on which my aunt and my grandfather, Mauro Márquez, had an accident. My grandfather handed away.
The times that adopted that date had been my first coaching to know that life is ephemeral and that blood and ache had been a part of the combo of residing.
I could not maintain again my tears and I stood subsequent to my grandfather’s coffin hoping he would rise up. They’d defined to me that they’d ready it, that they’d stuffed it with cotton and issues like that. However the hope of a kid is infinite, simply as I waited for my grandfather’s resurrection, I additionally believed that my father was going to return. My father disappeared in 1981. My great-aunt Cata was wearing white with my great-aunts Nena and Chanita. The three of them did issues that to today I don’t perceive and regardless of how a lot I’ve studied, I have no idea the place that got here from, caressing the corpse’s arms and inserting gold and silver rings on it for that temporary second. However what I do take note is that I didn’t come out of that have unscathed. My aunt Cata took my hand and made me contact my grandfather’s chilly, strong pores and skin like marble. At that second I discovered that dying is extra actual than I believed.
Just a few weeks later my great-grandmother Teresa, my grandfather’s mom, died. We went to her candle in San Martín and I solely remembered her crying at my grandfather’s candle held by my great-uncle Leonidas, who in that candle I noticed appeared exaggeratedly like my grandfather.
I do not know if I noticed eventualities like that once more in the remainder of my childhood. My contact with these bloody garments and the contact with a corpse registered in reminiscence is simply that. They are saying that the primary time is unattainable to neglect, the remaining is feasible. I grew up on the peak of the civil battle and our days had been marked by dying and persecution, in addition to the cautious scenes of Teleprensa and channel 12, in addition to the propaganda of Coprefa. Maybe that’s the reason dying introduced itself to me as a companion that by no means abandons us, that’s all the time latent.
After all the deaths added up, shortly after in 1991 my great-grandmother Julia Motto, the mom of my grandmother Josefina, died. In 1997 my grandfather Óscar Antonio died after which my great-grandmother María Estupiñán. From there the listing was added of uncles, buddies and acquaintances who anticipate the World to Come like a symphony that decreases till it turns into silent. And in that silence reside all those that have left us, leaving us the great reminiscence of who they had been and what they lived with us, in addition to the tales they left.
Loss of life lives with us ready for the second after we will go away for the following life, the day when life is reduce off doesn’t come, it advances with us regularly. Loss of life is all the time there to remind us that we’ll die at some point.
#Companion #dying #Mauricio #Vallejo #Marquez
