My Family After Tragedy

As June approaches, the year 1 mark; I rage. This is a warning to the evil who took my wife. Hot dry dark desert sands, We are not strangers; we know each other, We have been at war since the ocean dried. It is now as it was before; unchanged, you and me, Attack, I am ready to defend! Burn my skin as your fury blows! Striking me with needles to take my memories. Attack, I will defend; our war will never end! You took my wife; you cannot kill me,  I am already your demon, My cry will blind your ears, Locking this fight in every cycle, forever lasting, Attack; I am ready to defend! There will be no truce.

  It has been 11 months... Today, like every month, I sat next to my wife and unleashed memories, like tornadoes with their own breathing pattern, their own heartbeat; powerful and full of energy.  I played my trumpet; my own version of " Silence ".  After June 21st, 2021, I decided to do something for my beloved and selected the task of playing the trumpet. As the hour approached; we watched an old family film. My wife was absolutely gorgeous; the most beautiful woman the sun has seen, she was mine.  Many years ago when our daughters were very young we went to "Dinotown" , a dinosaur theme park in Chilliwack.  We had a great time that day and I captured the festive mood with our movie camera.  I remember the smell of the grass and the fragrance of my wife's skin baked by the sun. At the hour ; I lit her candles and cried... I felt mad with rage.  Why did she have to leave?   A piece of paper was near me and I picked it up to allow my fury to flow uncontrollabl

Prologue A few weeks ago I found three sheets of paper with a story written by Christina for a Toastmaster speech. The story had some editorial notes handwritten by her. The search for the final version did not return any results, therefore, what you are about to read is the result of having to type the draft of the document as is. To accompany her creation I selected a beautiful and warm image of my beloved. If you fall in love with her; I won't blame you. I hope you enjoy her creativity as much as I continue to enjoy.   By Christina Horvath,  Monday, February 18th, 2019. Early on, my husband and I decided to make stories a part of our children's lives.  We knew the power of stories would help them expand their imaginations and help them develop a better sense of well-being.  Heck, stories are one of life's great pleasures and we wanted them to enjoy them. Like most new parents we did not really know what we were getting into.  We had things well under control for a while

After Christina and I decided to have a baby she went off birth control.  One day she told me. "Jose, I am late." "Oh, maybe this is it!  You think?" "No; it is too soon.  I went off the pills just a few weeks ago; for some people, it takes a long time, years, to have a baby.  I know I am not pregnant." "Oh; have you made an appointment to see Dr. Ross?" "Yes; I am going to see her this morning." That day I went to my office in West Vancouver to carry on with my workday as usual.  Back in Port Coquitlam, Christina went to her family doctor's office. "When was the last time you were on birth control?" "Six weeks ago." "Hum; this could be it!" "No, no, no.  I would know if I am pregnant; it is my body!  I do not feel anything!  I am not pregnant!" "Ok, Christina; I am going to bring a little cup and you are going to the bathroom to pee in it.  We just need a little bit of urine for the test

  My wife and I adored our children.  Christina was a great mother; never saw anyone as dedicated as she was.  When she was fighting her cancer she used to tell her oncologist that she could not die because she needed to take care of our children, especially our younger daughter. It does not work like that.  I would have taken her place more than gladly, but that is not how it works. We bought our home in 2001 and in the first weeks of 2002 our first daughter, Livia, came into the world.  We were immensely happy.  Three years later in the living room of our house, I asked Christina if we could have another child and in 2005 our youngest daughter, Raquel, joined her sister. I believe I know where and when each of our children was conceived.  I loved my wife so intensely; just like riding a comet deep into space and returning from the other side, to mingle with the Gods and the stars.  For both pregnancies Christina took very good care of her health; she was never overweight.  She tracke

  By the summer of 1992, Christina and I were full steam ahead; we were all in and we were like peas and carrots!   Due to its proximity to Simon Fraser University, Burnaby Mountain Park was our favorite spot. Christina had an old green sleeping bag in her car that she used to take to picnics with her dog Sam. This sleeping bag turned into a picnic blanket was very convenient and we put it to good use, especially at lunchtime when we lay down after meals and had the sweetest, most tender conversations of our lives. In that blanket I learned a lot about Christina, her deep thoughts, and her heroes ; it was our magic carpet. Since I spent almost every night with Christina, I didn't have time to cook and prepare my own meals for my dinners and lunches the next day. So I bought my lunches and persuaded Christina to come with me wherever the wind took us. This could be on campus or at any neighborhood restaurant. The food didn't matter much; it was her company that fed me. One day..

  Today is a particularly difficult day for me.   Writing the previous two stories, Once Upon a Time a Charro  and Explain Yourself! , made me feel very close to my wife as if the events captured in these stories have come to life and I was transported back in time.  This feeling made me feel warm and happy, but it uncovers a deep sense of longing for my wife that I cannot stop.  Sometimes I think I am going a little mad by viewing the world through this new retro-reality I am creating. Whatever the case; there is something sublime about remembering a loved one who meant the world to me.  Remembering comes with a price; it hurts. There is so much more about us and so little time to write it!

  After Christina and Ivan's fallout, Christina did not trust me completely.  I do not blame her; the scene at Mario's party was still fresh in our minds.  I wanted to get closer to her but the memory of that incident erected a fence between us.  It was a see-through fence, not one of those made of some sort of impenetrable material. During the first weeks of 1992, one early evening at the pub, Christina was looking affected by something.  I assumed the reason for her mood was not Ivan because the two of them seemed  friendly enough but not involved unless they were keeping their relationship real hush.  I seized the moment to address her directly with an exploratory question when everyone left to get their next round. "What is going on Christina?  You seem a little off.  Is everything ok?" "I am having some difficult days... I'll be ok." - and wearing one of those soft smiles she concluded - "Thanks for asking". "Boyfriend problems?&qu

Cantinflas starring in "Por mis Pistolas" During the last months of 1991, Christina was working in  Dr. Ross Hill 's research group at Simon Fraser University.  I was working in Dr. Pinto 's research group as a post-doctoral fellow.  Due to the proximity between our work labs, I noticed the pretty girl working next door.  I knew who she was because our groups would often go together to the university pub for a refreshing beer.  Sometimes, the quiet intellectual atmosphere of the pub was a little boring and our groups would team up to go for an extended party time to the pubs of the area like "Mountain Shadow", which does not exist today, or " John B " still standing. During these outings, our groups played darts, sang karaoke, and ate copious amounts of nachos and chicken wings accompanied by gallons of beer. I will never forget on one occasion we visited JobB and the pub had live music, a rock band. I wanted to impress Christina so badly that I as

A few weeks ago I joint a grieving support group organized by my local hospice (1).  Following COVID protocols we are meeting online.  We are part of this group because we have all lost someone close and dear to us.   Attending these meetings shows very clearly that we all share a deep sense of sorrow.  As I write these lines I can visualize their faces and hear their voices telling stories of love and sacrifice; how much it hurts to lose someone so special; how powerless we feel not being able to prevent the final end from arriving. I have discovered how amazing these people are.  We are similar because we belong to this big family that we call humanity: we love, fight, and endure the most severe circumstances encountered on our paths.  We all did the same for our loved ones, we fought for life until the bitter end.  We were there until the last breath holding hands, bodies, and souls, committed. Amazingly; we are different, and that is what makes the world so interesting.  Imagine if