Hard to see past the curve

During these past seven months, I had time to think about the years invested in the company of my wife. We had good and bad days, but even on days that seemed dark, we still found time to embrace, to feel the connection; we never lost that.

My wife's condition, Glioblastoma, caused mood and personality changes that I did not recognize as something very serious. Instead, I attributed them to work stress, our finances, the environment of the XXI century, politics, and so on. I regret that I did not pay closer attention to those changes and was not capable of seeing beyond the “curve.” If I had, perhaps that would have given her a few more months — or years — with us, better quality of life, so much more.

Christina always wanted to visit France. I used to tease her and tell her, “Christina, I do not know where that fascination you have with Frenchmen comes from! It must be that they elongate their lips to talk as if wanting to kiss you. I believe you wanted to marry a Frenchman, but instead you settled for a Cuban!” She would smile at me and say, “No, no, no; I love you!” That, I knew, was true.

We never had enough funds to visit France together, but we could squeeze for one, and although I always insisted she buy the plane ticket and go, she would not do it. I regret that I did not buy the ticket myself and send her on her way to see the world. Same for Egypt, but terrorist attacks on tourists made me abandon the idea of insisting on her visit to the African country.

My biggest regret of all is that in 1993, when she asked me to marry her, I said “no.” I should have married her, ignoring the circumstances we were in, and joined her to be happy and spend more time together.

Life throws these curves at us, and it is hard to see beyond. We can only do our best.

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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,” but I want them to understand the steel in her soul. I remember the day I saw Christina for the first time. it was in the halls of the chemistry department at Simon Fraser University. We both entered a long hallway at the same time, walking in opposite directions in our white lab coats. 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. I thought, “Wow, I do not have a remote chance with that girl!” Years later, after we reunited in Vancouver, she told me she had thought the same: "He is going to make a woman very happy one day." She said she had no idea it was going to be her. In 1993, after I received an ultimatum letter from Canada Immigration, I was left with no option but to escape to th...

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