The fear of death is due to the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any moment.
Mark Twain
What does it mean to miss someone you miss? Many and diverse sensations. Yes, there is no recipe book to list the multiplicity of colors and smells that emerge in our minds. Today, as happens every day, you appear in my memory. It has been 23 years since you left to travel through galactic and unknown territories. They are many? I don’t know, the only thing I’m sure of is my memory and your presence. Your memory explodes and causes me a silent and deep pain. I see you clearly in my imagination. You smile and joke with me, like you always did, with that great humor you had.
My abstraction conflicts with reality. I embrace my desires and the noise of the earthly world abruptly separates me. The one you left that terrible night that broke my soul, when I refused to accept your departure. On that occasion the journey to the hospital seemed eternal. I ran to hug your naked body that was lying cold on that cement slab. I kissed you and screamed, as if I could wake you up with my screams. I believed and felt that you moved. It was impossible, a doctor told me who saw me without seeing me, perhaps with pity or with that routine reaction of someone who sees death daily.
You walk around here. We evoke you with nostalgia and joy, in that dialectical way of having you. We can’t forget you. You are very nutritious spiritual food. You revalue our lives. You lived your way, you did not faint in the face of obstacles. You overcame baseness and low blows from the small football bureaucracies, which unfortunately remain intact. You never defeated yourself. That fatal accident had to appear to stop your rising sports career.
You left very young, barely 20 years old. I know there is no age to die. We died, in several ways, with your departure. And we revive with your powerful memory. There are many here who still love you and remind us of some anecdote about you. Of course, first and foremost your brothers, Emilano and Lidice Estelí, who needed to hug you more. By the way, recently your dear Elenita, the spoiling grandmother, who cried for you so much and who you followed with enormous affection, recently went to travel through her galaxies.
Here we are, like every year, abusing the hospitality of El Sol de México, with bitterness and sweetness. I will continue writing to you to infinity, until the strength in my hands runs out and my mind fails. We will meet there, beloved Pedrito.
@pedro_penaloz