June 09, 2005
Losing History
I've just received a phone call from my mother telling me that Francisco, my parents neighbor for over 30 years, was found deceased on his sofa this morning. I cannot begin to express my profound sadness at this news.
Francisco lost his wife of over 60 years last year, she had suffered a long and drawn out illness. I visited with him that week and he expressed to me that despite having a family around him that loved him and that he loved, he really had no more reason to live. Monica, his wife, had been his love and companion for the greater part of his life.
Here was a man that at the age of ninety, you would find him on his roof with his tool box repairing a leak. Or would hear him hammering away in his yard, building a flower box or - his last project - ramps so that his wife could move about the house just a bit easier in her wheelchair.
Francisco was born in a small town in Cuba (I forget the name) and at the age of 13 had left his home and joined the Merchant Marines. He continued to be a sailor all his life and saw quite a bit of action on the high seas during WW II. In his later years, which is when I have my first memories of him, he worked for a steamship line. He was truly the epitomy of an old sailor. Salt of the earth and salt of the sea.
The boat that sits in my yard was once his. Monica had convinced him a few years back that he had gotten too old to go out to sea in such a small craft by himself. The lines and ropes that still serve that little boat were woven by his hands. The day that I bought the boat from I spent the greater part of 2 or three hours with him at the tag agency. We sat there and he told me stories of his days asea, how he had met his wife, his adventures at different ports of call, his life in Cuba. He had everyone around us listening intently to his wonderful recollections.
When we finally reached his home after the title transfers that day, he came up to me, patted the side of the boat, told me to take good care of her. He gave me pointers on seamanship, how to care for the vessel. "Start her up at least once a week" he said.
As I was leaving I hugged him and he said he would not cash the check I had given him for the boat. He had tears in his eyes, as if I was taking with me his favorite daughter. "Francisco," I said to him. "It'll be bad luck for me to take a boat to sea that I havent paid for." He nodded, padded me on the back and with that I was on my way.
My profound sadness is not so much so that he is gone. I am truly sad that he is passed yet he lived such a full life. A rich life. My sadness is rooted in the fact that this man loved three things in his life: Cuba, the sea and Monica. All of which were taken away from him way too soon.
I regret not having visited him in so many months, an unfortunate by product of the busy lives we lead. I regret his loss, as he was the epitomy of grace and kindness. Always there with a smile and a hello and a tip of his hat. Always there with a handful of mangoes for the neighborhood kids, or a wrench to tighten the spokes on your bike.
I think what I regret most is that with him goes one more chapter of our history. Another pair of eyes that have witnessed the path and will no longer be here to guide us through the darkness.
Posted by Val Prieto at June 9, 2005 02:06 PM
Comments
Everyone of us who dies without having his/her dream of seeing cagastro's demise fulfilled becomes another one of his victims. At least a few of us are living in freedom, and with freedom we die.
I remember that I posted something about wondering among free Cubans in Cuba: the dead of el Cementerio de Colon....
High sails for the old sailor, who is not dead, he just sailed into the mysteries of the horizon.
Posted by: CB at June 9, 2005 02:51 PM
You have my deepest sympathy for the loss of your friend.
No one who lives on as vividly in your memory is really, truly gone.
{hugs}
Posted by: Margi at June 9, 2005 02:52 PM
My grandparents, Rogelio Garcia (1890-1977) and Maria Garcia (1907-1985), who died in the United States and are buried here in Miami, will be reinterred in a free Cuba. It may not be solace to those who will not live to see this dream; all I can say is that the dream wil come true. It is the least my generation can do for those who lost so much. Viva Cuba Libre, la Cuba de mis abuelos.
Posted by: George L. Moneo at June 9, 2005 03:01 PM
Val me da muchismo pene por tu perdida. Mas bien nuestra perdida porque no llegue a concerlo.
Jorge
Posted by: mojoman at June 9, 2005 03:19 PM
Sorry Val I meant to say "pena" I hit post when I meant to hit preview. For the record, I have no feelings for you in that way. (LOL)
Posted by: mojoman at June 9, 2005 03:24 PM
Don't worry - there is a special place in Hell for Castro and all his supporters that have prepetuated a living Hell for the Cuban people. There is also a special place in Hell for those like Castro and co. who have kept the dictatorship going and have denied old Cubans the right to die in their home and not in exile.
Posted by: Mario at June 9, 2005 03:42 PM
Wow, I'm in shock.
Que descanses en paz, Francisco. Gracias por ser parte de nuestras vidas.
Posted by: Amanda at June 9, 2005 07:39 PM
Val ... what a beautiful post. Your neighbor just came to life for me through your moving prose. And so I say, if I may be so bold, that one of the ways our history is not lost to us - is through actions like you take here on this blog. I did not know your neighbor, but now I have encountered him ... you have passed on the word, you have shared his life and his beauty and his humanity with us. In that small action, even though he has passed on, he still lives.
You know how I feel about your personal posts about your family, your relatives, the people you meet. They are gems, and they also provide a huge service. At least to me.
This is the value of storytelling - something human beings have been doing since the beginning. We're all a part of this journey called life ... there is beauty everywhere, and thank you so much for sharing that.
Bless you, Val, and rest in peace, Francisco.
Posted by: red at June 10, 2005 09:12 AM
Val... you have my sympathies. Also, I aggree with RED, it is a beautiful post and you made Francisco come alive for me while reading it.
Posted by: bynki at June 10, 2005 11:24 AM
Val, nobody writes so beautifully about others as you. Nobody.
My condolences on your loss of your dear friend and neighbor.
Posted by: A.M. Mora y Leon at June 10, 2005 03:41 PM
My sincerest sympathies, Val...
But, take heart, you WILL see him again, someday...
(I won't even try to mouth some platitude in Spanish, I do not with to insult you or these other honored people...)
God Bless...
Posted by: Sgt. B. at June 15, 2005 05:12 PM