Más que un adiós, una Bienvenida.

"Tenías pocos familiares acá, sin embargo dejaste a mucha gente que te quiere"

Es verdad, es así, no hubo un lugar el cual pisaras, un lugar por el cual pasaras en el que no hayas dejado una huella, en el que no hayas dejado una marca.
De cariño, de amor, de compasión, de calidez, de comprensión, de arduo trabajo, de amistad, de ternura y mucho más.

Toda mi familia que te conoció, te quiso, ¿Y cómo no hacerlo?

Tu simpleza y ternura, tu tranquilidad y tu mirada compasiva lo cubrían todo y a todos. Era un placer estar con vos, conversar con vos, y así te vamos a recordar, con ese amor que nos diste y que creo que nosotros también te devolvimos.

Habrá sido su muerta la que te decidió a abandonarnos? Espero que no, y espero que haya sido rápida, indolora, porque el sufrir, es lo menos que merecés.
Ahora van a poder reunirse, allá arriba, acá al costado, por ahí abajo, adelante mio o por detrás, no importa, sea donde sea, ahora podrán estar juntas y van a poder cuidarse mutuamente y estar felices, como cuando ambas estuvieron acá, entre nosotros.

Como lo dije en su momento, ahora es tiempo, mas que nunca, de mirar adelante, juntos, para que sea más fácil y enfrentar los devenires del Destino agarrados de la mano, siempre recordando, para no cometer los errores del pasado y para honrar, como vos lo merecés.

Bienvenida a lo que falta, a lo que nos aguarda, juntos, por siempre jamás.

The Rocket Man

Without even an inch of free space, his body totally covered with images, paintings, tattoos.
His Destiny was set up from the beginning, his body told us so, we only had to look careful, thoroughly.
His goodbye was going to be in the sixth of June of two thousand and twelve.

This world may have been too small for him, too narrow and boring for his mind constantly 'over the moon'. We haven't noticed it before, if we had been able to see through his invisible body paintings, we may have been able to save him, we may have been able to send him over the moon, to outer space, to Mars where his real home laid, where his mind flew a thousand times, over and over, trying to find something, trying to show us something, what he had discovered over there maybe.

If we had discovered the memories of the past and the future imprinted in his body we wouldn't say good bye to him today, because he would still be all around us, embracing us with his unique touch of mundane-outer-space-fantasy, one that made us touch the skies with our bare hands, one that allowed us to feel we were walking in that dusty red carpet that makes the soil of Mars his eternal home.

With his unique style we walked unknown territories, we talked unknown languages, we lived alien lives and experienced ways totally unknown to the human race. With his unique style we travelled the bluest of skies and the enormity of the universe as if it were going to work. With his inventive we were able to be the ones we would never want or can be. His genius showed us that other ways, other worlds are possible and are waiting for us to experience them.

If we had realized earlier that those images, words, phrases, places, characters, machines and worlds were his memories, his experiences, his emotions, his hoping, his past, present and future, we would have been able to see that something wicked this way was coming and we would have been able to stop it, at least for a moment, to thank him for all those incredible moments that he gave us, that he created for us and that will live forever in our minds and in our hearts, that will never be forgotten.

He gave us the stars, he gave us the planets, the infinity of the universe, the strangeness of what lies beyond in a manner totally understandable and acceptable like if it were our own.
He made us conquerors of the entire Universe with only his words, we reached more than the speed of light, we flew to the corners of what lies ahead in the far future in a blink of an eye and we rejoiced with what we don't know and sometimes can't imagine.

He showed us his World, and I'm sure it will live forever in our memory.

This humble ode is for you, Ray Bradbury, the one an only mundane-science-fiction writer.
Your worlds and your heritage will live with us forever and ever, to infinity and beyond.


Alternative ending:
This humble ode is for you, Ray Bradbury, the one an only mundane-science-fiction writer.
You made us look at the skies and see the stars.

Encrucijada

¿Te das cuenta de que si nos hubiésemos tomado ese colectivo, si hubiésemos corrido unos metros; no nos hubiese pasado lo que luego nos pasó?
-Sí, me doy cuenta.
¿Te das cuenta de que si hubiésemos corrido ese colectivo unos metros, y lo hubiésemos tomado, tal vez podríamos habernos accidentado, o peor?
-Sí, supongo que es una posibilidad.
No, posibilidad no, probabilidad no, Destino.
¿Te das cuenta que si yo hubiese sido atlético, forzudo, karateca o similar, tal vez los hubiese podido "fajar"?
-Sí... pero eso fue una decisión tuya, la de no ser forzudo ni karateca y por ende no hacerles nada.
Sí y no, sí ya que yo lo decidí, pero lo decidí así porque el Destino así me lo impuso, y el Destino me lo impuso porque yo así lo quise porque el Destino lo quiso, desde un primer momento; todo está entrelazado, pero el Destino siempre prevalece, siempre es primero y último.
-Pero entonces que...

El Destino es simple de explicar, pero infinito en su comprensión.