I am not referring to the loved ones of the family who left this existence, but to a plethora of people we met in the neighborhood, in our studies, in the places where we have worked or developed our activity; to acquaintances, to brothers in the faith, to friends, to companions of a particular activity.
In many moments I start thinking about those who I met in my first job, when I was 18 years old, and I wonder if some of them maybe are still living this reality like me.
I evoke fellow students at various levels, from school to post-grade, and to my dear and dear and endearing friends of CIOVI, who are no longer with us.
And when they come to my memory, I feel a huge desire to think that they are still there, that I can still write to them and they will answer me, that I will surely find them on Facebook or Twitter, and that I will have the enormous pleasure of enjoying personal encounters and ineffable dialogues.
So I feel. This is what I call nostalgia for the deceased. For those of whom I refuse to think about the harsh reality that I have lost them, that they are no longer on this side of the existence.
And on the other hand, I feel an enormous gratitude to the opportunity of having been able to meet them, of having been able to share days, months and years of life with them.
Of having known their personal impressions, their cares, their worries, their ideals, what soccer team they were fans of, or what political party they voted for.
Specially having counted on their trust and their friendship.
Sometimes I feel like I've lived a lot to overcome them in their three-dimensional stay.
But it's okay, the memory of them is a challenge to give the best of me for the good of many, to continue being more and more who I am. To leave my mark well printed, before the time of my departure arrives.
I know I still have challenges ahead and things to do. And I'm happy with that.
I do not know if you, my readers, sometimes have instants of that nostalgia for those who are no longer among us. I would risk thinking that yes.
Milton W. Hourcade
Texts protected by copyright
No comments:
Post a Comment