By Fabiana del Valle
HAVANA TIMES – Nora was born on February 4, 1950 in a place called Cayo el Pino, in the Consolacion del Sur municipality. She was the sixth child of a marriage that gave fruit to a family of 11 children, 25 grandchildren, 32 great-grandchildren and 4 great-great-grandchildren.
Ever since she was a child, she lived by the popular saying that goes: “put on a brave face when times are tough.” Her innate joy was contagious, nobody laughed better and louder than she did.
She was a thin and sickly young woman, with blonde hair that she brushed every morning under her little sister’s attentive gaze. Interested in photography, she got a camera which she used to immortalize the members of her family. Anything that was beautiful and interesting was worthy of her lens.
In 1970, two of her sisters left the country. Their husbands, political prisoners at the time, were forced to choose exile. This left a huge vacuum in the family. A situation that many homes on the island would share, where saying goodbye would become more and more common.
She married two years later. Her eldest children were born in a humble place near both of their parents. She lived there for years until she was able to move to a more comfortable home in Paso Quemado, in the Los Palacios municipality.
She loved to knit, and beautiful cardigans and blankets were spun in her hands. Only there was no greater masterpiece for her than her three children. She always lived for them.
When the Special Period crisis came, two of her eldest children were studying at Havana University. Those were tough times when she had to give up many things so that they could complete their studies.
When her eldest son left for England, he took a piece of Nora with him. She carried on living with that pain. But then, another son left for Canada. Clinging to the hope that she would see them again, she showered the youngest with all the love that she couldn’t give to the others because of the physical distance that separated them.
She made two trips to the US to visit her sisters, one trip to England and several to Canada. This privilege that is denied to most Cubans was unable to make up for the pain caused by the absence of her children and grandchildren.
One day, she told me that there was a hole in her heart that could only be filled when her family were reunited. But nothing could dim her light, no setback could remove her candid and unique smile.
COVID-19 came and her plans were put on hold, waiting for the time when hugs would not be laced with danger. That’s when she decided to lock herself up with her husband, son and daughter-in-law. She’d talk to her brothers and sisters almost every day, giving each other hope with stories and laughter.
She spent her time between soap operas and social media. She carried on knitting for her grandchildren, getting ready for the reunion. But the waiting only got longer, the dream was moving further and further away. I remember hearing her crying on the other side of the line. The phrase she said never left my mind. When will I be able to see my children and grandchildren together?
Then, the disease came knocking on her door. The words died down on the other side of the line, her smile was buried behind her cough.
She was in critical condition for twelve days, but her son did everything he could to save her. He got antibiotics, an oxygen mask, a monitor to record her vital signs. He did everything the doctors told him to, no matter how much it cost.
The warrior son spent nights in the hospital parking lot. He prayed to a God he’d never believed in before. Those prayers were joined by others in the distance, from another two children, four grandchildren, ten siblings, 22 nieces and nephews, 28 great-nephews and nieces and many other relatives.
But in spite of her son’s sacrifice, the doctors’ work and prayers, the light of her smile faded on October 1, 2021. Nora passed away, and she wasn’t able to see her greatest longing come to life: to see all of her family reunited.