The Planner 00Iren

When I tell my daughters that their mother was amazing, I am not sure they grasp the magnitude of her stature. They tell me – “Yes dad, we know”.

I remember the day I saw Christina the first time. It was in the halls of the chemistry department of Simon Fraser University. We both entered this long hallway at the same time, in opposite directions, in white lab coats, and we had the opportunity to take a good look at each other. When we passed our eyes crossed. She kept walking without turning but I looked back to see her disappear into one of the laboratories. “Wow, I do not have a remote chance with that girl!”

Years later, after we reunited in Vancouver, she told me that she thought the same "- He is going to make a woman very happy one day" - She told me that she had no idea that it was going to be her.

After I received the ultimatum letter from Canada Immigration, I was left with no option but to escape to the United States and avoid deportation and possible imprisonment in Cuba for being a traitor of some relevance. The problem was how to secure the logistics of the escape; I had stopped working for months and had been burning all my savings. Christina was an SFU student, and I was not going to accept her funds even after she offered to help me financially. I had no choice but to request financial assistance from a close relative living in the US.

With the Canada Immigration dateline approaching on the second week of September 1993, I was very stressed to come up with an escape plan. All I had in my mind were ill-conceived thoughts about how to cross the border without being detected. When Christina asked me, I presented my ideas to her. “-You will be caught, and you will be deported, and I am not going to go visit you in a prison in Cuba. Forget that nonsense and listen”.

Christina’s idea was simple and involved no fence jumping, no late-night crossing through some distant “unprotected” field, none of that. Her plan was to cross right under the noses of the border guards.

The first thing we needed to accomplish was to secure a plane ticket from Washington state to Florida. This task fell on a relative in the US and it was difficult considering that the first weekend of September 1993 was a labor day weekend: everyone was traveling and flights were booked to the max which meant that a last-minute plane booking was going to be difficult to do and very expensive.

On the last days of August, my relative called me and told me that there was a booking for September 3rd out of Bellingham International Airport, it had cost a mint and I could not miss that flight. I could not believe it; the escape was set in motion!

Christina’s plan was very simple but she wanted to rehearse it so nothing would be left to chance on the day of the escape. Her plan was to cross through Peace Arch Park right next to a border crossing.

Her idea was simple; she would take me to a transit stop near the park where I would board a public bus to the park to disconnect my arrival to her car. That meant that she would arrive at the park first and head to the American side of the park, select a picnic table and wait for me there. After my arrival to the park, on the Canadian side, I would go to the bathrooms of the park on the American side, then walk towards the picnic table and meet with her. Because we were setting face to face, we had a good view of each other’s back. Next, observe and record.

Leaving the park had to be deceitful as well. Her plan was that I would start walking south as if I was going to leave the American side of the park but then turn west towards the sea and head towards the bathrooms again, then exit the bathroom and head towards the Canadian side of the park and wait there for her. On the day of the escape, I would keep walking south, exit the parking lot on the American side and keep walking towards a diner that was in the area in those days, enter the facility and wait for her there.

The first rehearsal on September 1st went flowless. I was feeling nervous but more confident that the escape was going to be successful. However, when I met with Christina in the parking lot, she told me – “We screw up the time, look at the time; you missed your flight. We are coming tomorrow again.”

For September 2nd rehearsal all times had to be readjusted: the time she would pick me up at my place, the local bus time to Peace Arch Park, the time we had to be in the park, and the time that I had to exit the American side of the park towards the US. We could not account for the time it would take us to the airport, but Christina estimated the best she could because she had traveled that road before, the Interstate 5, and the risk was manageable.

The second rehearsal was perfect, like a clock. This gave us confidence that we could execute the escape successfully without being caught. On the way home, we were silent. When she dropped me off, she said – “Be ready tomorrow real early to be able to spend a few more minutes together”.

On September 3rd Christina picked me up real early. We spent a lovely time, mostly silent in White Rock. When it was time to head for the bus stop, we both had a few tears in our eyes but very quickly we jumped into our rehearsed sequence and we were focused on the job.

When it was time for me to leave the park, we were not emotional. I started to walk south without looking back but to this day I feel her eyes burning my back. I was walking as if I had done that walk a million times before, then turned left and the diner was in view. I walked in and ordered a coffee.

That was the deepest I had ever been on US soil in my entire life! I felt like screaming! I was free! Then I saw the sweetest face with the biggest smile! Oh, how sweet that was!!!! She sat for a moment, held my hands, and told me – “Let’s go, it is time and we are not home free yet”.

The miles from Peace Arche Park to the airport were the longest in my life! Every patrol car that passed us I thought that the car would be stopped! But no.

At the airport, we had a few minutes extra before my flight. Obviously, I had nothing but what I was wearing, US$200 in my pocket and a pair of sunglasses! When the boarding of my flight was announced we fused ourselves in a hug that people around us looked at us and thinking “wow, that must be love!”. That followed, “take care”, “write!”, “we will be in touch!”, “I love you!!!”

Before walking into the plane I gave Christina my sunglasses and told her – “you keep them, you look really mean and hot wearing them!”  You will be the judge

The Compassionate

 

In one of the photos of our wedding day I was crying, and I started to cry since we were declared husband and wife. In that picture I am holding my wife’s flowers, she gave them to me to help me settle down. It worked, and a few minutes later I was calm and happy again.

On the way to the hotel, where we were going to have our wedding dinner Christina was driving and I said, “We are married!!!”, and started to cry again, this time inconsolably encouraged by the fact that we were alone in the car. I could not stop!  Again, Christina gave me a map of Seattle and told me “here, help us get there!”.

Why was I crying so hard? Yes, I was very happy but there was more, and it will all make sense if you keep reading.

1993 was a difficult year for me and my relationship with Christina. Sincerely, I thought that we could not survive that year. In 1992 I decided not to return to Cuba, for my own reasons and applied for refugee status under the Geneva Convention in Canada. Because I was very ignorant about the process a Canadian friend of mine represented me before the immigration board during my hearing. He did not know what he was doing either and we lost the case.

After the refugee application fiasco, Christina told me, - Marino, you need a lawyer, I will help you get a real one. She contacted an organization that helps refugees in the lower mainland, and they recommended Catherine Sas, a young Vancouver immigration lawyer, a very decent person.

Through Catherine’s office, we applied to remain in Canada under Humanitarian and Compassionate grounds. Those days were difficult for me and Christina. Immigration was pressing me to leave the country and they use every means available to them. I was even arrested by the RCMP on one occasion when I went to the Coquitlam detachment to have a criminal record check. When Christina learned about my arrest, she called Catherine.  Catherine wasted no time and contacted the Vancouver Sun.  The next day The Sun sent a journalist and a photographer to cover the story to the Coquitlam RCMP detachment. Under that pressure, the RCMP and Immigration buckled, and I was released. 

The following day the newspaper published my story and I became a small celebrity. There were also concerns that I could be picked up by the Cubans and after my release, I did not return to my apartment and instead spent a few nights roaming the streets of Vancouver and sleeping in the dorms of the downtown Salvation Army.

“Could my relationship with Christina survive all of that?” I had that question in my mind day and night. “Tomorrow, I will tell her to not see me again, it would be best for her to forget about me”, but then the next morning I would see her face, she would greet me with a hug and it would disarm my intentions.

After the Salvation Army experience, I spent a few weeks hidden in Abbotsford. Everyone was looking for me! “They” even asked Christina, but she would not give me away – “No idea where he is!”. After a while of playing these games of cat and mouse, Catherine secured an agreement with immigration that I would not be harassed by anyone until the humanitarian case was reviewed. I did not have to be in hiding anymore.

The result of the humanitarian case was devastating, it was also denied. A few days later I received a letter from immigration informing me that I had a few days to arrange my departure from Canada and once that time expired, I would be removed by them.

With the ultimatum letter from immigration in hand Christina and I went to see Catherine and, in her office, she told me that there was nothing she could do to help me. Then she asked us “Do you love each other?” – “yes,” said Christina, “Then get married!”. “-I could not do it” – I said. On the way to my apartment, I explained to Christina my reason. I told her that I loved her very much but could not marry her like that, that it would be wrong. She told me that she would marry me, that she loved me, that she wanted to help me, and that she will never look back. I said no.

She was so good to me.

1993 was a dark year for us, but in December of 1994, we got married. Our relationship survived everything and in the end, we united our lives because we were free to do it. However, it showed me that Christina was a very compassionate person and for that, I loved her more.

Now you know the reason I cried when we got married and when I realized that we were really married. The story of how I entered the US escaping from Canada could come out of an espionage novel. For years I was asked how I crossed the border into the US and my story never had Christina in it and believe me no one could get it out of me. But now, no one can hurt Christina and her bravery and intelligence need to also be honored and I will tell it in a different post.

A Bit More Like Her

To honor Christina's memory, I am trying to solve problems a bit more like her. Already canceled her mobile number, and taking care of vehicles, went to the bank, legal photocopies of important documents, government applications forms almost ready to be sent. There is so much to do when a tragedy like this one hits a family and the worst is that I had to face all of these things alone.

If I would do things like "me", my way, the wrong way... (the Cuban way?), then I would have said - "I am tired now, and all these will be done, perhaps, later" - I would have started in August!

There we are, December of 1994, and believe me, it was not enough time together. In those days I was living in New York and we got married in Seattle, Washington. We did it that way to allow her family to attend our ceremony. 

I wanted us to get married in New York where my science career was finally taking off. To give you some context; I was working at the City University Of New York (CUNY) and had a job offer from a prestigious USA east coast research center, "the center", from Rockefeller University. I had really good friends there, work connections, met a lot of important people in science and I wanted them to be part of my wedding.  When people get married they invite friends, colleagues, one's boss, even if we do not want to do that! However, when she said, "I want my mother to be there", that was it. Her happiness is what mattered to me: if she was happy, I was happy.

We had a modest ceremony, but we were very happy together and that is what was important.

After our marriage, we settled in British Columbia and those were the happiest days of my life.

If Wishes Were Horses

How can I describe my wife's final 40 days of life?  

On the evening of May 12th, right after dinner, Christina sat on her favorite reclining chair.  Every day she would spend many hours of meditation reclined on her chair and it was not uncommon for her to fall asleep.  Very often I would approach her to caress her forehead and she would respond by opening her eyes with a smile.  However, this evening she did not respond.  I thought that she was sleeping very deeply - "Rest Christina", I thought and returned to my after-dinner housework.

While in the kitchen I am interrupted by our older daughter.

"Dad, mom's nose is bleeding"

"It is expected Livia, the current treatment with Avastin can cause nose bleed side effects" - I said while drying my hands.

"What if this is something else?  Should we call 911?". 

"Let me reach out to the oncologist On-Call at the hospital first and whatever the doctor says we will do.  You can wake up mom and clean her nose" - I was trying to avoid going to the emergency if it was not necessary to avoid contact with COVID patients.

The oncologist responded to my call swiftly to confirm that the bleeding was to be expected.  I also explained to the doctor that my wife was very lethargic, more than usual.  I noted that two days prior she had stopped taking dexamethasone and perhaps she should go back on the medication again until she saw her oncologist in the coming days.  The doctor agreed but mentioned that if the nose bleeding could not be controlled or if she went unconscious then to take her to an emergency department of the nearest hospital.

Talking to the doctor gave us some reassurance and the hope that mom was going to be "OK".

But then; if wishes were horses, my wife fell silent and unresponsive.  We called the paramedics and rushed her to the hospital.  A CAT scan did not show bleeding but more growth could be seen.  At this time the decision was made to increase corticosteroid to the maximum and take her into the palliative care ward.