A year has passed and all Cuba knows that it physically lacks one of its most precious sons. He rides through the largest of the Antilles in that route drawn by men and women who made history and left the will and heroism essential to forge every triumph. 

It is difficult to accept that you are not here, because you simply taught us to know you eternal, vital and even when we hopelessly cannot see you, we imagine you there, in every success, but also when something is not right.

Youth escaped and the years came galloping, but your stature of giant challenged the calendar to vibrate like Quixote of these times, always ready to battle for just causes, always willing to give peace and sow smiles on sadness.

That you are not physically, hurts, and I do not know if one day the custom will allow to accept that absence because every day there are reasons that corroborate your presence, that tells of the good work of all the grateful ones who decide to do good and thus pay homage to you.

A year has passed and I wonder who said that Fidel died? It will be that he is not physically, because it beats in unison with all those who, with a Martian soul, advocate for the good of humanity, he is in that daily birth that encourages hope and life, he is in the altruism that as an effective food revitalizes energies to continue ahead.

On the one hand, those who exude hatred, those who celebrate his death, those who do not tolerate the reality chosen by millions of Cubans. On the other hand the grateful, those who from the greatest humility recognize as the greatest wealth peace and love, those who do not forget, those who know that they do not need wings to make a dream, those who vibrate with every good deed and decide for make his work perpetual.

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