[EN-ES] The Ink Well Fiction Prompt #149 | Last holiday memory before the blackout | El último recuerdo de vacaciones antes del apagón
Horses! -said Grandpa sitting in the waiting room.
Since he had Alzheimer's, his words were less and less precise every day, every time he saw me, I felt his anguish of not knowing where he was or who was around him.
His gaze crept to the corners of the house where he raised eleven of us children who took turns caring for him.
I believe that life was generous to him, because since our grandmother died his loneliness distressed him, sometimes we want to believe that he escaped from reality in order not to feel.
We learned of his condition one morning months after he had buried the love of his life, as he always described her, when with his usual cup of coffee he asked, "Where has Margareth gone?
- Dad? -I said, "Mom is resting in the cemetery.
- In the cemetery? -he said, surprised. - And what is she doing in the cemetery?
- Dad! Mom died in April, don't you remember?
He kept silent and a tear rolled down his cheek. From that day on he began to confuse the grandchildren with his children, to abandon the routine of repairing the fishing nets that was his job of supporting his family for more than 60 years.
We all cried in hiding, as when we were scolded as children; we could not believe that someone so brilliant with the job of chronicler of the small town on the peninsula could lose all his memories as a man.
I searched for minutes trying to understand what had motivated him to say that word, in the middle of the waiting room of the doctor's office.
I walked around the room looking for a clue, a picture, a figurine, another extraneous conversation, but nothing hinted at it.
After leaving the routine check-up and with the clear message from the doctor that we should enjoy the day because the time is inclement, we walked to the car.
-Horses," Dad repeated.
- Do you want to see horses? -I asked.
He rejected my proposal by shaking his head from side to side and pointing to a directional sign that showed a beach on the other side of the island where we lived.
It was a couple of hours away and almost lunchtime, but I decided to just enjoy the now.
We drove slowly towards the beach and the place felt different to me, peaceful and relaxing, without the noises of everyday life or the pressure of routine.
When we arrived, the breeze and the murmur of the waves illuminated his face and I could almost tell he was excited.
- Is it here, Dad? -I asked, "But there are no horses here.
Without answering me, he got out of the car and walked towards the beach, the white sand signed his step with footprints, like the reflection of what a man once was.
He reached a tall palm tree and stopped.
I approached and my surprise was immense when I saw marked on the trunk of the palm tree a heart and two initials VE & ME inside the figure.
From the height of the coconut tree, I guessed they had been marked years ago, I wondered inwardly if those were the initials of Vincent Emilio and Margareth Elizabeth.
Wait, was Dad remembering Mom? Or was he telling me what he wanted to believe?
-Horses," Dad repeated and pointed to an old hut close to the sea.
We walked to the place and an old fisherman greeted us.
- How can I help you? -he said with a typical sailor's accent.
I told him that my dad had been repeating the word "horses" all morning and had guided me to that place, I explained that he had lost his memory, so maybe he was confusing the place with another lost memory.
- Horses, you said? -He looked perplexed at the fisherman, "We haven't had horses for about 60 years, we used to rent the cabin to newlyweds, who would come for horseback rides at sunset.
The man turned his back and went into the cabin.
I thought it was the end of the memory, but as we were retreating from a distance, the fisherman shouted at us, as he ran up to us with a book in his hand.
The owner of the cabin brought us a photo album, quite vintage with Polaroid pictures to see if Grandpa could associate any.
I slowly turned a few pages, and unbelievably enough on number 16, there was a picture of my father holding the reins of a white horse, with my mother riding on it.
Tears streamed down my face and into my soul, as Dad laughed out loud showing me the picture like a child seeing an unexpected present.
- You see, horses! -he said excitedly, "Margareth, my love.
We returned quietly to the house, had dinner and Dad went to bed with a smile; before tucking him in, he took my hand and said I love you.
That was the last time I saw my father alive, he left me the greatest inheritance a parent can bequeath, the confession of the most precious memory before the blackout of his earthly existence.
| Spanish Version |
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¡Caballos! -dijo el abuelo sentado en la sala de espera.
Desde el Alzheimer, sus palabras cada día eran menos,cuando me miraba, podía sentir su angustia de no saber dónde se encontraba o quienes le rodeaban.
Su mirada, merodeaba los rincones de la casa donde nos crio a once hijos que ahora nos turnábamos para atenderlo.
Creo que la vida fue generosa con él, porqué desde que la abuela murió su soledad le acongojaba, a veces soliamos creer que simplemente se zafó de la realidad para no sentir.
Supimos de su condición una mañana a los meses de haber sepultado al amor de su vida, como siempre describió a su mujer; estaba sentado con su habitual taza de café y me preguntó ¿Dónde se habrá metido Margareth?
- ¿Papa? -le dije- Mamá está descansando en el cementerio.
- ¿En el cementerio? -dijo extrañado- y ¿Qué hace en el cementerio?
- ¡Papá! Mamá murió en abril ¿No lo recuerdas?
Él guardo silencio y una lagrima rodó por su mejilla. Desde ese día empezó a confundir hasta a sus nietos con sus hijos aún en edad escolar, también abandonó la rutina de reparar sus redes de pescar,su antiguo oficio para mantener a su familia por más de 60 años.
Cuando pensabamos en lo que podía estar viviendo,llorábamos a escondidas, como chiquillos que habían sido reprendídos. No podíamos creer que alguien tan lucido, cuya pasión era ser cronista del pequeño pueblo en la península donde creció, pudiera perder todas sus memorias de hombre.
Indagué durante minutos, tratando de comprender que le había motivado a decir esa palabra en mitad de la sala de espera del consultorio.
Recorrí toda la habitación buscando alguna pista, un cuadro, alguna figurilla, otra conversación ajena quizá, pero nada me acercaba a ello.
Tras salir del chequeo de rutina y con un mensaje claro del doctor que nos exhortaba a que "aprovecháramos de disfrutar los días junto a él, porqué el tiempo es inclemente".
Mientras Caminabamos hacía el auto, papá repitió "caballos".
- ¿Quieres ver caballos? -le pregunté.
Él rechazo mi propuesta moviendo su cabeza de lado a lado y me señaló un cartel de dirección que exhibía una playa al otro lado de la isla donde vivíamos.
El lugar que señalaba estaba a un par de horas de nosotros y casi había llegado el momento de almorzar, pero decidí simplemente complacerlo, así que nos dirigimos hacía allá.
Condujimos despacio hacía la playa, el paraje se me hizo distinto esta vez, placido y relajante, sin los ruidos del día a día, ni la presión de la rutina.
Al llegar, la brisa y el rumor de las olas iluminó su rostro y casi pude afirmar que estaba emocionado.
- ¿Es aquí papá? -pregunté- lamento decirte que acá no hay caballos.
Sin responderme, se bajó del carro y caminó hacía la playa, la blanca arena firmaba con huellas sus pasos, como una reflexión de lo que un hombre podía haber llegado a ser.
Llegó hasta una alta palmera y se detuvo.
Me acerqué, mi sorpresa fue inmensa al ver marcadas en el tronco de la palmera un corazón y dos iniciales VE & ME dentro de la figura.
Por la altura del cocotero supuse que estarían marcados hace años, me pregunté interiormente si esas eran las iniciales de Vicente Emilio y Margareth Elizabeth.
-Un momento -me dijé- ¿Papá había recordado a mamá? o ¿Estaba yo diciéndome aquello que quería creer?
-Caballos -insistió papa y señaló una cabaña antigua frente al mar.
Caminamos hasta el lugar y un viejo pescador nos recibió.
- ¿En qué puedo ayudarlos? -dijo con el acento típico de marino.
Le comenté que mi papá tenía toda la mañana repitiendo la palabra "caballos" y me había guiado hasta ese lugar, le expliqué que él había perdido la memoria por una enfermedad, así que tal vez confundía el lugar con otro recuerdo extraviado en su mente.
- ¿Caballos dijo usted? -dijo perplejo el pescador- desde hace unos 60 años no tenemos caballos, solíamos alquilar esa cabaña a recién casados, que venían a ver las cabalgatas de turistas al atardecer.
El hombre dio la espalda y se adentró a la cabaña.
Pensé que era el fin del encuentro, pero cuando nos retirábamos, oí desde la distancia al pescador gritandonos, mientras se acercaba corriendo con un libro en la mano.
El dueño de la cabaña nos trajo un álbum de fotografías, bastante vintage con fotos Polaroid para ver si el abuelo podía asociar alguna.
Lentamente pasé algunas páginas, aunque parezca increíble en la número 16, estaba la foto de mi padre llevando las riendas de un caballo blanco, con mi madre montada cabalgando.
Las lágrimas recorrieron mi rostro y mi alma, cuando Papá rio a carcajadas, enseñándome la fotografía como un niño cuando ve un presente inesperado.
- ¿Lo ves? ¡Caballos! -dijo emocionado- Margareth, Mi amor.
Regresamos en silencio a la casa, cenamos y papá se acostó con una sonrisa; antes de arroparlo, me tomó la mano y me dijo te amo.
Esa fue la última vez que vi a mi padre con vida, me dejó la mayor herencia que un progenitor puede legar, la confesión del recuerdo más preciado antes del apagón de su existencia terrenal.
This entry was written for The Ink Well Fiction Prompt #149 "Holiday Memories."
Credits:
Text translated with https://www.deepl.com/es/translator
AI Images generated with: https://wepik.com/es/
Grammar correction: https://www.grammarly.com/
A sad, but very beautiful story. Sad because we children are not prepared to see our parents sick, but beautiful for all the love story it conveys. I loved your story. Regards
thanks for share, is nice to read this kind of messages
This was such a beautifully told story, @rdsmas. You tugged on every heart string inside this curator. I wanted to cry both with laughter and joy. I think many people will be able to relate to the heartache shared in this piece and the absolute joy that those precious moments of lucidity and can bring. And even those who don't relate directly will enjoy your story as it draws them in and holds them captive. Thank you!
Thank you for writing in The Ink Well.
A thousand apologies that for time reasons I had to publish it running raw, I hope that in a few years I will be able to mature it.
Anyway, I love your way of analyzing the writings, it is inspiring and exciting, it feels like waiting for a letter from a friend.
Thank you for such kind words for this humble writer's pigeon.
It was a beautiful piece. You are very welcome. We look forward to your submissions.
Gorgeous story. I was right there on the beach with them both. Loved it, Juan! I love it when i come across stories like this in The Ink Well 💗
Boost requested!
What a pleasure to read such an effusive comment, a thousand blessings and may we soon meet again on the path of letters.
Indeed! !PIZZA
Beautiful story but sad at the same time. I love how you were very patient with your dad even when you know he lost his memory. That's why he can never stop loving you even in his absence.
Thank you, there is no more difficult situation than seeing a parent with Alzheimer's, but I am sure that those who inspired this writing gave their body and soul to their parents until the end.
I was deeply moved and felt immersed in the story from beginning to end. The way it describes the grandfather's struggle with Alzheimer's and how it affects the whole family is truly touching.
This story reminded me of the importance of memories and how they are a precious treasure in our lives. As I read, I reflected on the need to cherish every moment and every experience we share with our loved ones. We never know when they might fade away, like the memories of the grandfather in the story.
What a thrill, to be able to connect with other bloggers and tell part of the human experiences, wrapped in the soft veil of writing. thank you.
It was a battle to keep my eyes dry reading this. I have a really close relative that has Alzheimer's so, I know how hard it can be.
Bottom line, we should make memories with our loved ones as much as we can.
Es así, no puedo agregar mas, gracias por leerme.
$PIZZA slices delivered:
@samsmith1971(1/15) tipped @rdsmas
At some points, I was reading with heavy heart. It takes a lot of patience to understand and relate with someone with memory loss. You did that exceedingly well. A nice story.
Gracias, como secuestradores del tiempo ajeno, saber que nuestros lectores se involucran en nuestras historias es el mayor premio que podamos recibir, gracias por el tiempo y tan hermosas palabras, feliz navidad.
The dread of once a lively person loosing his/her memories is not a pleasant experience to have. You did a good job painting the scenes and drawing us in the emotions of the story. Romantic but sad, I was glad with the ending as you found closure at the end.
Nice work.
This story has a lot of anecdote, with a fusion of characters, my grandmother suffered from Alzheimer's and my grandfather loved her for over 60 years, so what better than a story to merge them into a single character that will represent the best and worst of that wonderful couple by the sea.
@theinkwell
Oh wow, this is so special. Knowing people with Alzheimer's it's all the more poignant. It's strange how they communicate, sometimes, with such strange lucidity. This is a beautiful tale. Thanks for writing it.
Thank you for taking the time to read me, lately the words just come out and I do it quickly because deep down I don't know if I am also falling into the blackness of oblivion. Merry Christmas.
Thank you for reading this brief story that merges several anecdotes of grandparents as if they were one person.