My ever-cool and
steady roommate Juliana is walking around on the phone with a harried voice and
teary eyes. This is not the Friday afternoon that either one of us expected. I
was bummed because I had to miss out on a trip to Igauzu Falls because I have
class this weekend. Juliana had planned to work on a big art exhibit that was
starting tomorrow, but now she is sad and red-eyed because her dear grandmother
is now near death.
Juliana’s
grandmother (I forget her name & feel bad for doing so. We’ll call her Abuela)
had a very difficult childhood- things were rough for her family. Juliana didn’t
go into details but I know Abuela’s childhood molded her, in ways that those
who have been through tragedies move on, but still keep a piece of the tragedy
in her heart. Time passed and Abuela married, had kids and continued living
life. She was the kind of person who was very supportive and who had a way of
knowing exactly what a person needed. And this especially applied to Juliana.
Abuela is one of the most important people in her life, Juliana once told me
while we were talking one afternoon. Abuela always encouraged and supported
Juliana in her break from family tradition to an uncommon and unsteady career
in the art world. I get the feeling that Abuela was the Juliana’s rock, her
safe place to land, the person who gave her hope and inspiration while others
advised a change in plans.
I can’t describe
the sadness I felt watching her call the airline to book a flight, hurriedly
back a bag, and make arrangements for her dog Cairo. Even when your world is
falling apart there are still very mundane things that need to be done, which
serve as both distractions from the pain and things that make it hurt even
worse.
“Me espera. Me espara
(wait for me)”, Juliana said to Cairo, as she always did when leaving. And then
with a hug to me and a quick grab of her bag she walked out of the apartment,
knowing full well that she would not return as the same person.
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