ByJosé Dominguez, December 10, 2020 — The day that came to settle all my father’s dreams, fears, paradoxes, and constraints, it came to him suddenly and painless as he would have desired. At the age of 72, he accomplished one of his dearest aspirations — to be productive and independent. The proof was that when his last night came, he was prepared to rest from the day of his work and from a life devoted to the [responsibility to] confront all kinds of struggles, accomplishments, and issues as he always did. In the last day of his life, he prepared himself to sleep, and sleep he did. He sat on his bed with his body wrapped [in] his pajamas, then he slipped downwards and the mattress received his dead body due to a generalized heart failure. He had no time to do or to think or nothing. Not a chance to say goodbye, not to say “I love you,” not for even a farewell gesture or a welcome smile to the new life he was initiating.
After that … moment, it is idle to say that my parental house that always looked so alive lost that spring of energy. My mother, who had always been like a mockingbird around my father, turned …hopeless, most incapable to provide the vitality that in past times was imprinted in each corner of the house. My wife Maria and I decided to live with her. My father’s name was seldom used since each of his memories was to my mother a reminiscence of his permanent loss. Several days after the passing away, one afternoon, the main door’s bell rang, and as always, I ran to open the heavy door. Outside, a lady was waiting for my appearance. She was almost 45 years old, rather small, dressed in a simple and humble way, but with very clean clothes, and looked at me shyly.
“Morning,” I said, “what can I do for you?”
“Excuse me,” she said, “I wonder if this is Mrs. Dominguez’s residence.”
“It is. What is the purpose of your visit?” I asked.
With a gentle and low voice, responded, “I wonder if I can speak with Mrs. Domiguez.”
I replied, “Yes, yes you can. Please come in, and we’ll call her in a minute. “Please take a seat.”
“No, no, no, no,” she responded, almost frightened, “I am here very well. Just tell her that Mrs. Lopez wants to speak with her.”
“Very well, please wait a moment,” I told her. My mother came immediately and opening the big door, invited Mrs. Lopez to enter. Mrs. Lopez advanced, her face looked very serious, and began to speak before my mother could have the chance to invite her to sit.
“You don’t know me,” she said, “but I know your husband, don Roberto. I sell newspapers in the street have a newspaper stand on the sidewalk. Nearby, 16th of September St. and Avenita Juarez. For years, raining or snowing, in summer or winter, [like clockwork] Mr. Dominguez walked by that way. I guess he went directly to his work each day for years. He stopped by my tiny stand and after greeting me with a gentle “Buenos Dias,” he handed me a candy. He never missed a single day of this routine. That candy was for me a present of life. He didn’t speak a word more or a word less. It was part of my day, and also part of my life to see this gentle person going to work. Suddenly, his appearance subsided. I waited several days and didn’t see him. Then, I asked my friends and neighbors and was informed that he lived in this house. I don’t want to bother. If he is ill, I don’t want to be an inconvenience to him. I just want to know how he is.” My mother was astonished. As Mrs. Lopez was explaining, my mother slowly and trembling began to approach her. At one point they were face to face. Then, my mother said in a helpless voice, “Sorry, he is dead.” Both ladies embraced each other, shaking as tears covered their faces. I guess each of us is a witness or a recipient of kindness and humanity. Nevertheless, each of our gentleness which this big human family around us that in a sense is our extended family. For sure, my father’s tenderness is living in Mrs. Lopez’s soul. God bless her.