For Memories

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.

Blood Wine

 

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 uncontrollable and wrote this:

I drink blood wine, dark, bitter,

Drowning my soul will not help me forget.

Blood wine, blood wine,

Hurts as it runs through my insides,

Prisoner of this silence burning thick and constant.

Blood wine, blood wine,

The flames of your memories hug me hard,

To thirst for your presence,

Rage at your departure, I cannot control it.

Blood wine, blood wine.

The Power of Storytelling

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 with our nightly bedtime story routine; then one day my oldest daughter when she was 8 years old, approached me and said in her sweet innocent voice;

"Mom, can you read us a Harry Potter book?"

"Yes, of course dear."

Little did I know that the power of story was going to take an unexpected turn and that my family was starting a crazy obsession that would last for years!

First, we bought the Harry Potter books, then the Harry Potter DVDs, the Harry Potter cloaks, the scarves, the magic wands, the bookmarks, the puzzles, the posters, the jewelry, the playing cards, and on and on it went!  If you would walk thru our house you would see Harry Potter things everywhere!  The most interesting Harry Potter artifact was the sign posted above our toilet in the bathroom; it has an arrow on it pointing down towards the toilet and it reads "This way to the Ministry of Magic". For those of you unfamiliar with Harry Potter you would be interested to know that witches and wizards travel to the Ministry of Magic by flushing themselves down a toilet. Kafloosh!

In the middle of all of this craziness, the power of story was helping our daughters.  We had reports back from their teachers that both kids did have great imaginations and could write well.  We could see that they both became eager readers, mostly re-reading Harry Potter books.

It was obvious to my husband and I that Harry Potter was not just a series of books to our children, but Harry Potter was a powerful force in their childhoods.  When our daughters were 11 and 14 years old we decided to give them a gift that they would remember fondly for the rest of their lives.  I was to take them on a trip all the way to London England, to visit the famous Warner Bros Harry Potter Studios.

We bought the tickets for the studios months in advance.  The tickets specified the date and the exact hour that we were supposed to arrive at the studio.  In Europe these days, big attractions often require that you arrive at the specified time.  My daughters were only too aware that their aunt and uncle had been turned away at the gate of the famous cathedral in Barcelona for arriving 3 hours late.

I was not going to let that happen to us.  There was no way I was going to have my children be disappointed because we were late.  To ensure we could stick to the schedule we arrived in London three days early, and we boarded an early train in central London so that we could arrive at the studio 1/2 hour early than needed.  The train would take us to the station where a Harry Potter shuttle bus would pick us up.

After boarding the train, we zoomed along at a high speed until the train suddenly came to a halt.  Then the conductor came on over the audio system.

"I apologize, but we will be delayed a few minutes.  Please, remain in your seats."

Neither my kids nor I were happy about this delay, but we thought a few minutes would have not made a difference.  But as time passed, I started to get a nagging worry.  Nagging worry soon turned to agonizing worry because we were stuck for far more than "a few minutes".  Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock... my imagination was in override!  "We were going to be turned away at the entrance to the Harry Potter Studios because we arrived late?"  I was not going to accept this! Inside I was turning into a ferocious mama bear ready to snap at anybody who would deny my cubs their Harry Potter trip.  While my insides wanted to scream to get that train going, I kept a calm and confident exterior for the sake of my daughters.  Finally, the train started up and we were ultimately 2 hours late boarding the shuttle bus.

The tensions in me were looking for an outlet and I accosted the bus driver to explain our predicament.  He answered that we would have no trouble getting in whatsoever.

Whew, from then on, the day was absolutely perfect.  My daughters enjoyed everything from seeing the Great Hall of Hogwarts, Dumbledore's office, the potions classroom, sitting in Hagrid's sidecar, and eating chocolate frogs to name a few of the things we saw.

The best exhibit was saved until last.  We approached a room and could hear the low sounds of the beautiful classical music composed for Harry Potter.  We entered a very large room with the lights dimly lit.  What we saw before us was jaw-droppingly beautiful. It was a model of the Hogwart's Castle, but the model does not convey its humongous size nor its incredible beauty.  It took 40 artists 3 months to build this beautiful castle that was shown in every film.  Clearly, no detail was overlooked.  I was mesmerized and wanted to see my daughter's reactions.  I looked over and saw little tears welling up in their eyes.  A wonderful sensation of satisfaction came over me.

After all the craziness, the planning, and the final stress, I could see that a little piece of magic had been planted into their hearts by the awesome power of story.

Colophon

I have read this story several times and each time I enjoy it immensely and remember those days very well.  We used to do "face time" at the end of the day each day they spent in London.  No idea how Christina managed to make them go to sleep after the excitement.  They loved the trip and London as well.

In London, they visited museums and important landmarks.  They visited Shakespeare's Globe which they enjoyed immensely.  Christina used to quote Shakespeare at home, she was truly learned.  Sometimes I would make the wrong use of the language and Christina, and our children would correct my English which gave me an opportunity to play one of my regular jokes.

"I know I am saying it incorrectly using your English, but I could be starting a new trend, the same way Shakespeare did.  All you need to do is repeat this expression at school and everywhere you go and it will catch on.  I already use it at the office and people seem to like it."

"Dad, they probably think you are weird.  We are not doing that!"

For that reason, Christina would hunt down my mistakes in the sweetest and kindest way possible.  She wanted me to learn proper English and did not want our daughters to copy my backwards Shakespearian ways.

Christina; You Are Going to Have a Baby!

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".

Christina went to the bathroom and returned to the examination room where Dr. Ross was waiting.

"Here it is, but I am not pregnant.  This is a waste of time!"

"Thank you Christina; this will be done in a moment".

When the doctor returned she told Christina.

"Congratulations!  You are going to be a mother!"

After Christina got home and regained control of her emotions she called me at the office.

"Jose; I have something to tell you but I cannot tell you over the phone.  I will tell you when you get home."

"What is going on Christina?  Are you OK?  What did the doctor say?"

"Do not worry, I am fine.  I will go to pick you up at the train station."

When I arrived at the station in Port Coquitlam, my wife was waiting for me outside of the car and as soon as she spotted me she waved at me.  When I reached her she hugged me and told me with a smile:

"You are going to be a dad!"

After I manage to settle down she told me the above story.  We laugh!

No, No; It is Mine!

 

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 tracked her blood sugar and she would exercise after meals to help bring her sugar level to optimal.  That discipline helped her during the delivery of our children; our babies were not overweight.

Our first daughter was born during one of the biggest snowstorms in years.  Christina woke me up early before sunrise. 

"Jose, darling, it is time."

"What? what?"

"I am going to have a shower, have something to eat then we go to the hospital."

"Ok; I'll prepare some breakfast for you, and get the coffee going.  Go have your shower."

There is a belief that when mothers are about to give birth their faces glow.  It is true; and in both pregnancies, I had the privilege to enjoy the adorable expressions of my wife just before delivering our babies.

After Christina had her breakfast she went to the bathroom to finish her hair and she started to dry blow and style it the way she always does.

"Christina how far apart are the contractions."  - Christina stopped the hairdryer to answer.

"About five minutes."

"Let me see" - I said as I placed my hand on her wonderfully round belly while looking at my wristwatch.

"Oh; yes, five minutes... we have to go!"

"I am not done with my hair and I want to have another piece of toast!"

"Christina, they told us that at five minutes intervals we have to go to the hospital; otherwise the baby could be born in the house or in the car.  We need to go now."

We picked up our ready bag with all the required documents and got ready to leave the house.  As we are closing the door the contractions started to intensify.

"Oh, Jose, the baby is coming!"

"Get into the back seat!"

The snowstorm was very intense!  Fortunately, we had snow tires but I do not think that the tires would have saved us from an accident if I had been reckless.

"Jose, the baby is coming!  Hurry up, please!"

I couldn't!  It was snowing cats and dogs and I was moving about 30 kilometers per hour to avoid disaster!  The roads were in terrible condition; it was windy and snow was blowing in buckets and I could hardly see ahead. The snowplow hadn't passed yet at that early hour and there was almost no traffic as we were traveling through downtown Port Coquitlam.  As we entered the highway there were many vehicles in the ditch with their emergency lights on.  I could see people inside those vehicles, but I could not stop!

"I hope they will be OK" - was my thought as I saw an emergency vehicle moving in the opposite direction on Lougheed highway.

"Jose, the baby is coming!!!!!"

When we arrived at the hospital Christina was admitted immediately into the maternity ward where she was examined by a medical professional in turn.

"You are not sufficiently dilated to be in labor, but I do not think you are going home; you are delivering your baby today."

"Dah!  I know I am having a baby today!!"  - Christina shouted.

"Would you be requiring an epidural for the pain?"

"No, no epidural... just the laughing gas."

I do not remember the time but as daylight had arrived, Christina's contractions intensified to the highest and she had dilated.

"You are entering labor now.  We are going to move you into a more private area.  Dr. Ross, your family doctor, is on her way and will arrive soon." - the doctor said - "you are going to be fine!"

At that time Christina was in a common area where many expecting mothers were waiting for their moment.  Some of them were knitting or reading a book.  Not Christina who was twitching and moaning.

"Sweetie, we are moving you into a private room."  - a nurse said as she entered the common area, and inspected Christina's wristband.  

Minutes after Christina settled into her new room, a nurse arrived with a cylinder of laughing gas, nitrous oxide. Instinctively, Christina knew what it was and reached out her arm to the nurse, grabbed the mask, and pulled it up to her face to take a deep breath.

"Breathe normally sweetie, it does not work any faster.  Breathe normally, slow down." 

Once the laughing gas had kicked in, Christina relaxed for a short minute, her arm coming off her face to rest on the bed slowly, letting go of the breathing mask as she closed her eyes to rest. I saw it as an opportunity to "try it out"; and I put the mask on my face and smelled good.

"Ah, damn, this is good, it makes me happy!" and I proceeded to take a few more puffs of gas. In the meantime; Christina closed her hand and felt that her mask was not there, it was missing! She opened her eyes and looked around her to see me with the mask on and grinning at her like an idiot.

"JOSE! What are you doing?  No, no, no; IT IS MINE! - she yelled looking at me madly while opening and closing her hand in my face -  "GIVE IT TO ME!"

When Dr. Ross arrived I was doing the delivery breathing along with Christina and talking nonsense.

"Jose, be quiet please!" - Dr. Ross warned me.

"Christina, do you want the mirror to see the baby coming out?" - I said.

"NOOOOO, no mirror".

"The baby is coming; push, push, push, another push Christina!"  - Dr. Ross instructed.

"AHG!!" - and after stopping for a second to gather her strength; she gave it all.

"AHHHHHHHGGGG!"

"IT'S A GIRL! Congratulations!" - Dr. Ross stated and placed the baby on Christina's chest.

"A girl!" - Christina said and as she spoke the baby opened her eyes.

"She recognized my voice!" - Christina rejoiced.

"Dad, would you like to cut the cord?"

"Yes, please."

In the delivery room, Christina's mother witnessed the birth of our first daughter. Christina went into labor for a brief hour that seemed like an eternity. After two days in the hospital, they were both home with me and a new chapter in our lives began. We were parents.

The Little Quirks Of the English Language: Part II

 

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...

"Christina; can you go for lunch now?  I can wait if you are not ready."

"No, this is a good time.  Did you bring your lunch?"

"Not today; did not feel like preparing mash and ground beef again."  Sometimes I would prepare instant mashed potatoes and would cook ground beef with garlic and onion and that's it; lunch. It was terrible, but it was food.

"Let's go for a sandwich.  Have you been to the sandwich bar at the pub?"

"No"

"Good, let's go.  Oh, grab the blanket... it is there on the chair"

In those days the SFU student society was running the pub, and its cafeteria, where they had a sandwich bar.  I have to say that that sandwich bar was probably the best food on campus at that time.  The bar always had a big queue. 

Those sandwich bars are like an industrial conveyer belt, with little time to think.  When my turn arrived to face the attendant the preparation of my lunch started with a series of questions and answers.

"What kind of bread?"

"Hero please"  - I just saw a guy asking for that kind of bun which was pretty big and a glutton goes for big.

"Mustard?"

"It's ok."

"Mayo?

"What is Mayo, ah; mayonnaise!" and my answer was "It's ok"

"Onions?"

"It's ok."

"Pickles?"

"It's ok."

"What kind of meat?"

"Ham please."

"Cheese?"

"It's ok."

"Chips?"

"Make it lots please"

"To go, or for here?"

"To go please."

"Anything to drink?"

"No, thanks."

The attendant wrapped my lunch and pass it to the cashier.

"$7.50 please."

"I'm also paying for your lunch" - pointing to Christina. To that, the cashier looked at the assembly line worker and the person responded with $4.50. Cashing-caching left a tip, and Christina and I ran to the park with our blanket and our lunches.

At the park we always set the green blanket on the edge of the shadow of a tree; we wanted to have options.  We took position next to each other, unwrapped our lunches to get ready to eat and:

"What is this!" - I was in shock at the sight of my lunch.

"What's wrong, Jose?" - she asked in a worried voice, and leaning down to look at my sandwich she asked - "Wrong order?"

"No, my sandwich!  Look at it!  Only ham and bread!  What is this!"  - pointing at the internals of my skimpy sandwich.

"You didn't want anything on it; I was there."

"What?  I said it was OK to put all the things they asked for!  Cheese? It is OK; put it on!  No, instead I get this!"

"Right, it's OK means NO in some circumstances, and in that case, it meant NO.  Next time say that you want everything on it or say 'Yes, please'; problem solved."

"Gush; I just paid $7.50 plus tip for a hunk of bread and a few slices of ham!  I did not even bring water!"

"I can share with you, here..."

Christina shared with me all the condiments of her food and my sandwich became edible.  She always made things better for me, and that day was not an exception.  She dedicated the rest of her life to me and our family. 

Thank you, my love.  I will never be able to thank you enough for your devotion.  You should have been the one writing our stories, not me.  Your control of the language was excellent, you were a paladin.  The little I know today I learned from you.

Related

The Little Quirks Of the English Language: Part I

An Entire World to Write

 

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!

Explain Yourself!

 

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?"

"No, no boyfriend; that is all I need now!"  - I smiled back and did not ask anything else.

The evening developed slow and a little boring and the regulars started to drop off early.  When everyone was starting to leave I found the opportunity to talk to Christina again.

"Have you had dinner yet?"

"No, not yet"

"I know of a nice Vietnamese restaurant near where I live, Saigon.  The food is decent. Would you like to go with me? My treat!"

"That would be nice".

We packed up and left for the restaurant.  On the way, in her car, I did not want to talk about what was bothering her so we talked about light things, food, our favorite dishes the fact that she was half Hungarian, and for that reason Hungarian dishes were on the top of her list.  I knew nothing about Hungarian food hence I let her talk and limited myself to the occasional question about the dish she was explaining to me.

At the restaurant, the dinner was very pleasant.  We shared the dishes we ordered.  During the meal, it came the time to talk about me, how I got my degree in Cuba, my dreams as a scientist, and the place where I grew up.

It was a sweet night.  I felt that she was warming up to me but also felt her reservations and I did not push her in any way.  After dinner, she thanked me for the meal and we shook hands goodbye.  Lovely.

At the restaurant, they gave me a discount coupon to encourage me to come again.  That coupon became a souvenir for that night and I have it somewhere.  I know it is here in the house, haunting some drawer with its magic powers.

After that night we started to seek each other out to go for lunch or coffee at the cafeteria or the food court at SFU.  The food at SFU is nothing to write home about, but sharing that time with Christina was sweet.  We were always in the company of others, but it is amazing how others can become white noise and I could only hear Christina.

Things were going great between us; however, Christina was keeping her guard with me.  We went to many places in Vancouver, including the beach; all of Christina's favorite places; but we were always accompanied by one of Christina's best friends in those days.  I won't mention her name but if she reads this post she would know it is only her.  She is also a nice person I remember fondly.

One evening we were walking the three of us at the beach in Vancouver and her friend walked ahead just a few feet, and it was enough for magic to happen; accidentally my hand found Christina's hand and for a fraction of a second we held hands.  When she realized what had just happened she pull her hand away as if pulling her hand out of the fire and looked at me with an expression worth a million stars -"Bad boy! Stop that!"

She was not mad.  I wanted to connect...  but her friend was always there!

Not long after that evening, I asked Christina to go out with me again. She said yes.  I was expecting her friend but that night her friend was not there.

The magic of that night reaches today.  I will keep the details to myself alone, but you can see that it worked well between us and every corner of the city is acquainted with our mist.

However, do not think for a second that the event at Mario's house was swept under the carpet with a kiss; oh, no! After we felt that our relationship was growing strong Christina made me account for that night!

"Why did you do that awful thing to Ivan?"

"Oh!"

"I was worried that the two of you were going to have problems!"

"It was a joke! He told me that he was not married."

"Jose, that was a bad joke!"

"Yes, you are right.  Actually, I apologized to Ivan the next day and he took it well.  He seemed ok after I told him that I was sorry."

"You apologized to him and not to me? I was in the middle of that!"

"Yes, you are right.  In my defense; I thought that Ivan was going to tell you that I was kidding, that I was drunk or something.  He never did, didn't he?"

 "No; that was strange.  He behaved really weird and that made me worry about the two of you".

"I am sorry Christina, but when I saw him behave like that, I thought, just let him finish things on his own...  do not help him fix things up!"

"Not funny; I still do not trust you!"

"I love you!"

"and I love you too!"

Once Upon a Time a Charro

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 asked the bandleader if they could play "La Bamba."

"La Bamba? Los Lobos style?"

"Yes, that one!  Can you play it?"

"We know how to play it but the lyrics would be a little problem."

"Great!  I can sing it!"

The musicians looked at each other a little surprised and the guitarist, who seemed to be the leader of the band, nodded as if to say "why not!"

I don't remember if I was drunk but I was under the influence of some spell. I jumped on stage and one of the musicians made the announcement.

"Ladies and gents, join me to welcome Jose Marino who is going to sing La Bamba with us!"

The band started and the performance was amazing! After that, I became a minor celebrity in the pub as the liquor flowed. Christina and I talked about that night many, many times during our lives together. It was incredible!

However, at that time I still did not have Christina's favor. I was working on it and was a bit shy to confess my feelings to her. I wanted her to feel great around me. looking back; perhaps I was working a little too hard on the introduction part.

In those days there was a Mexican professor visiting Pinto's group. I only remember his first name; Ivan.

Professor Ivan, on the back row, second from the left.  
Me, second from the left on the bottom row.
The first from the left to my right is Professor Pinto, and
to my left, Lars, a brilliant chemist from Sweden. 
I think I was among the finest chemists I have ever met.
Christina took this picture in 1992.

Ivan was very lively and cheerful. He played the guitar exceptionally well and had a fabulous voice; he was a true musician. Ivan and I used to share the same lab where we would spend countless hours working on our respective research. During that time we became good friends; we told each other jokes and sang La Bamba in the laboratory. He was working on organoselenium chemistry while I was working on carbohydrate chemistry.

One day Ivan seemed enthusiastically eager to do something.

"Ivan, you are in a great mood.  What is going on?"

"I have a date!"

"Sweet!  Who is the girl?"

"Can't tell you! I am taking her for dinner and no one knows what will happen after that!"

"That is really great!  Good for you man!"

I felt good for him, he was a good guy.  Then I saw Christina standing at the entrance of our lab.  My first thought was that she needed something from us. Before I open my mouth to ask her how we could help her she spoke.

"Ivan; I am ready" - Ivan looked at me with a smile, took off his lab coat, washed his hands and they both left.

I was crushed; Ivan and Christina?!  It does not even rhyme!  Oh, no!

I used to work late every day.  That night I went to the pub by myself, had a beer, and left.  The next day arrived early at the lab.  When Ivan arrived I asked him:

"So, how did it go last night?"

"It was great!  I took her for Italian and after that, we went for a walk..."

"...and?"

"We kissed.  She is a great kisser!" - No, no, NOOO! 

"Nice!" - I did not want to ask any further; that was enough!

With the end of the year festivities approaching, Dr. Pinto organized a house party for his research group and he extended the invitation to Dr. Hill's lab and the rest of the chemistry department.  Mario's parties were memorable, with lots of food, beer, and music.  He was a great host; he was lots of fun!

In the basement of his house, there was a large recreational room where music was playing and partygoers were dancing.  I was attracted by the music and when I entered the room the first thing I saw was Ivan and Christina lively dancing -"They are dancing!  At least it is not a romantic tune" - I thought.  I do not know what got into me but as I spotted them I walked straight to them and said:

"Hey Ivan, were you able to talk to your wife?  She called you at the lab but you were already gone"

Suddenly, as stricken by lighting Ivan stopped dancing and left the room.  I was surprised he reacted so strongly but more surprised was Christina who stood there with her mouth open as if someone had punched her stomach.  It was a joke, a bad joke I admit, but I was expecting Ivan to say that he was not married at all and that would have been the end of the incident.

The next day I saw Ivan and I apologized to him and told him that I was kidding.  He told me that it was not a big deal and that he was not interested in Christina after all.  I felt bad about my behavior.

After that Ivan and Christina did not go out anymore and my friendship with Ivan got a little cold.  Then the inevitable happened; Jose and Christina.

When the news got out the first person I heard from was Ivan.

"You little bastard!"

"Ivan..."

"No, no; do not worry!" - interrupting me and placing his arm around my shoulders told me while shaking my body - "I am happy for you; Hijo de Puta!  By the way, I have to teach you how to sing La Bamba correctly cabron; you are singing it but it is not right!"

After I moved back to Canada to join my wife permanently in BC I used to tease her about Ivan.

"Ivan told me that your kisses were like fire!"

"We never kissed!"

"You are blushing!  He told me you were a maniac kisser!"

That teasing went on for years and it always ended with Jose and Christina kissing.

Colophon

This story does not end here; it ends here!  Explain Yourself!

Talking to Others

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 we were all the same!

By listening to their stories and how they feel today after many months of finding themselves without the company of that special person, I have learned that we grieve differently and that there is no right or wrong way to travel these feelings.  We honor our loved ones in our own ways.  We look at the future knowing that one way or another this pain we feel today will take different shapes as we grow older but it will always be there; the memories cannot be erased.

I admire my newfound comrades for their courage to not step away from their destiny; they embraced it the best they could and they did not quit.  It takes guts to stick to one's path sometimes; even when we want to scream "Enough, I had enough!".  However, my comrades stayed firm.   Even joining the support group is an act of courage.

References

1. Crossroads Hospice Society