Since he left, I don’t like the date. The messages allusive to the celebration, the festive atmosphere in many cases or of longing for the strong hug that is no longer there, make the next days, difficult for me.
… not to mention the one on Sunday and if by chance I hear Benny with his frenetic and unique song, his favorite, my emotions are unleashed and then I cry for him like that unforgettable January morning in which he went to a better place as he wanted, I know this because I knew his soul and his suffering very well, but sadly we lacked the physical farewell, the hug that I didn’t have time to give him.
And that hurts me, the apparent harshness that characterized him, his inflexible severity to which he would not yield, perhaps afraid that we would mistake it for weakness and divert the straightness of our paths, always paralyzed the show of affection that struggled to get out like a steed run away from the chest but that I always held back and in the end was left waiting to continue there, arousing since then that lacerating longing and sad disagreement about what I could do and that I postponed, over and over again without taking into account what we all know … ! life is too short!
Tomorrow will be Father’s Day and together with the feeling for mine, for what it could be, for what I kept quiet, for the pain of my orphaned arms from that pending hug, I ask for a very big one for those who confinement was an opportunity to spend more time with their children, for those others with the mission of bringing home their daily sustenance.
Very big embraces too, for those angels in white coats, still fighting so that their children’s dreams have a future and especially for those who the darkness of the pandemic prevented them from enjoying this third Sunday in June, which we will have to celebrate once. more from the tranquility of our homes, the only safe place against the avalanche of infections, the only guarantee that we can have many, many hugs every day from parents and all those who remain to come.
