HAVANA TIMES — Who hasn’t felt lonely at one point? Who hasn’t cried over the distance of a loved one, who hasn’t personally experienced the suffering caused by the loss of someone we hold dear?
I’ve seen many people leave: the friends I made during school (I particularly recall a little girl with golden hair who was the kindest person I have ever met. Nearly 40 years later, I still cannot understand why that beautiful, sweet and happy girl died so small).
I think also of those who chose to cross the seas in search of love, family or, quite simply, a better life. I think of those who didn’t want to continue seeing me, because they either did not enjoy my company or I distanced myself from them, unable to get along.
I saw my dear grandmother, who was a mother, a friend and a confidant to me, depart. I also said farewell to Lolo, an elderly neighbor who was the first to greet me every day and offer me an encouraging saying whenever I felt down.
A cousin who was too young to die (but not for the terrible disease he had) also left us, as did Turco, who died old, but not so old (his barks still echo through the house and his loving gestures are impossible to forget).
I suffered every loss. They all made my heart shrink, as though it had chosen to stop beating of its own will. All made me cry, yell, hate.
Nothing, however, compares to what I experienced yesterday when I felt my daughters were in danger. Only a parent can understand what I mean. Luckily, it was a false alarm, but I still have trouble breathing, sleeping, living. I think, though I don’t want to, about those who were given more than just a scare. Poor parents, what terrible pain that must be.