To a woman in the Gospel (A una mujer en el evangelio)

Many saw my father as a strong minded, extroverted and possibly intimidating lawyer and business man, always upright, always pristine in a full suit and matching tie.  I was possibly the only one who used to say to him: “If we are only discussing this and not arguing about it why is your voice so loud right now, turn it down a notch dad!”

Here is a different and vulnerable side of him, a little boy who needed comfort and that original love and understanding that only his mother could provide.  From his book The celebrated afternoon(La tarde festejada). 

Note: Nicolás was my grandmother’s brother.

To a woman in the Gospel (A una mujer en el evangelio)

You return from the Death

and you still keep a little joy

in your smile

that is now sad.

I believe that through your dull eyes

and with the breeze of time

you managed to have a glimpse of Paradise.

There you must have a place

among the angels.

You battled!  With the fervour

of always,

with the courage that branded your life

of a strong woman,

with the decision with which you

opened doors, without permission,

for you and your children,

dominator of hard times

and humble in prosperity.

Here they are, waiting for you,

silently,

your mandolin, your guitar

and the ukulele that remembers

the romantic look in

Nicolás’ eyes, singing the songs

he used to sing to get rid of

his nostalgias.

And here I am, mother

to tell you from the hill

of so many years that have passed

(which allow me to take a glimpse

at yours and see them closely)

that now I am more of a child

than the one you knew,

because everything that time

gathered around me

I have lost irreparably,

and little by little I end up more and more lonely,

abandoned and lonely

and falsely upright

like the trees

rotten inside

in the inclemency of the nights

and the freezing days.

How you now fill the empty spaces

of my soul!

I would have never said

these words to you

if so many things had not happened

and had made me feel

the urgent necessity of your presence,

it does not matter, mother,

your presence is like a soft light

in a comfortable corner

of the house.

You must know, that is your job:

to light up, to glow,

and to warm up the freezing air

that penetrates

the bones

when the inner lights

have started,

mother, to extinguish.

Surely one day

you will have to attend to the voices

that call you from above.

Nobody will be able to oppose, it is true,

but it is possible that by then

I am the one who opens the door for you

and welcomes you with tenderness,

and share with you

forever

your stories,

your music,

your beautiful songs

that never went out of fashion,

and help you, mother,

in the craft

of the bobbin

and the felt dolls

and all those beautiful things

that come out

of your hands.

Do not worry mother.

You are complete,

intact,

because the light that illuminates the tower

from which you watch me,

today more than ever lights up

the path that my

hesitant steps travel…

mother, be patient with me,

today I feel more like a child,

let me talk to you like this,

and try to come with me

and to forgive me and to bless me…

and share with my melancholy

your smile, mother,

that is now sad.

To my sisters

Herminia and Consuelo.