Giving Without Asking For Anything In Return

Another Month Without Christina

Today marks another month without Christina’s physical presence. Yet, her absence does not mean her influence has faded. Much like a timeless piece of music composed centuries ago, Christina’s legacy continues to echo in our lives—subtle, enduring, and deeply felt. What she gave us remains, even as we move through time, until one day we, too, join her.

Is the world better off because Christina lived in it? The answer doesn’t lie in praise or recognition, but in the quiet ways she made life better for those around her—often without them even realizing it. I know I wouldn’t be here writing these words if not for the life she shared with me. Our children wouldn’t be who they are—their strength, their kindness, their boundless potential—all of it rooted in what their mother gave them. Christina gave us her essence, expecting nothing in return.

How many lives are still touched by her dedication, her efforts, her love for the things she did so well?

There are many stories in my blog that remain unfinished. But today, this is the story I needed to tell. At noon, I visited “The Rock,” where her physical remains rest. After a moment of silence, we had our usual “conversation,” and then I returned home.

One of Christina’s favorite pieces of music was Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor. We have a keyboard at home where I can play a few passages, and when I play, I play for her. One day, I’ll learn the piano properly so I can play the entire piece, just for her.

If you’re reading this, take a moment today to listen to that piece. Play it for Christina, and join us as the music plays.

Comments

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...

Our Charlie, Hegel

It was 1981, and I had barely survived my first year at the University of Havana, where I was studying chemistry. The leap from high school to university had been a huge adjustment—not just for me, but for many others. In the fall of 1979, about 250 of us began the program together. By the second year, fewer than 50 remained. That year we were introduced to a new subject: Philosophy. Every subject has to start somewhere, and we began with the classics—their ideas, their conflicts, their strengths and weaknesses. But one question weighed heavily on us: why study philosophy at all? Shouldn’t we be focused on chemistry—the nature of substances, their reactions, the concepts of atoms, molecules, and bonds? That was the very first challenge we posed to our philosophy lecturer, and to us, it seemed perfectly legitimate. The answer, fittingly, was philosophical. In the Soviet context, philosophy was meant to train us in analytical reasoning and critical thinking—by grappling with big questi...

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