Saturday, November 7, 2009

Eulogy to my Grandfather


My grandfather died in 1993, when the Special Period in Cuba was in its most critical moment, and it was cancer what cost his death. To see someone to whom you love die is the most devastated experience you could have in your entire life. To see his latest days, hours and minutes pass through and you are numb, unarmed and inutile in every sense is overwhelm.

My grandfather was my father figure in my story life. He was there every time I needed a helping hand, someone who made my days full of meanings and full of joy. He soothed my fears and pains; he feed my soul and all my demanding in every little detail since I was a child. I grew up with him, he grew up with me. We were together since then, and he is still here in every sense you can’t imagine.

My grandfather died helplessly in a mischievous surgical procedure in his small town in the hands of an irresponsible surgeon. In seven days his life banished and I saw him leaving this world in pain.

We tried to move him out to Havana in every single way possible, but with no money, no help from any single authority and no ambulance services of any type, it was just impossible. We begged to every level of the government: Hospitals, Health Care providers, Public System Transit, political authorities at every level, which in Cuba means only one, the Communist Party, even appealed to the police, but every effort was awarded with a negative answer.

My grandfather needed a nurse in that travel to administer the drugs to sooth his pain, he needed an ambulance, or a train with some essentials commodities like a bed and some privacy, or a simple car with a minimum of requirements. We didn’t have it, in Cuba you don’t have a car if the government doesn’t give you one and we weren’t prominent officials or relatives of prominent officials, or people with money to buy any single soul in every single level of the status quo. We were just average hopeless citizens left out there in the center of the island, in a little obscure town.

In the Hospital, we had to provide with saline solutions obtained outside the hospital, with specialize medicaments to hold the banishing life of my grandfather for seven days, sheets to cover him, even a light bulb to his room. Nothing of that kind was there; it was given to us for friends, some relatives working in health care institutions in the capital province (Santa Clara) and even a doctor, who belonged like my grandfather to the Masonry. Those were the health care providers, and I mean it especially for those who care a lot in the world and praise Cuba for its Health Care System: shame on you!!!

At the end, in a cold overnight of December 9, my grandfather died when I was with him taking care of his lasts hours. Hopeless, my heart was buried with him, and my deepest believes in a system that helped to kill him too.

Meanwhile, in the palaces of our Castro royalty, the regime rents priced planes, foreigner specialists and charge everything in the pockets of every citizen of Cuba to treat his royal majestic Fidel. There is no price for his life, every single article, latest technology and facility is rush to help his disease, which is still a mystery in our country. But, of course, you can’t find any reference in the Cuban media: it is one of the best secret keep it.

I would like to ask to any of the people who award Castro with support if they will give up the life of one of their closer family members for the life of Fidel Castro.

My grandfather was a nice man, a person who worked hard his entire life for his family and his friends, who fought against poverty, deceases, injustice and hunger, who built with a humbleness his little house, created a family and supported it with the effort of his own hands.

He never sent to firing squads to any of his adversaries (he never had any adversary of any kind), he never sent to jail his opponents (he never was involved in politics and with politicians), he never refused to help anybody or threatened anybody for their ideas or believes, he was a man of his words who kept his promises and never refused to give a hand to everybody: a real good man, with no ambition for power, or linage or prominence of any kind.

Fidel Castro got all the help to stay alive and still oppressing the people of Cuba; my grandfather is dead, and my heart is gone with him, with no hope in any justice: divine or terrestrial.

I always keep close to me his memory and his picture when I was a child.

Bless you, pa!!!!

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