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FRANCISCO MASSÓ LOSA

We are the memory we leave in people.

Life, in its most elemental form, rises as a sublime gift, a jewel whose brilliance we truly appreciate only when its light threatens to fade.

Life in its infinite wisdom, becomes our most selfless and, at times, most relentless mentor. Its guides us along winding paths, sowing challenges that test the crucible of our perceptions and transform us in every step we make.

Every experience is a stroke on the canvas of our identity, a brushstroke that sculpts and shades our understanding of the universe around us. Among the deepest lessons life offers, the loss of a loved one acts as a tangible reminder of the fragility of our existence, a mirror reflecting the fleeting nature of our days. This experience, though heartbreaking, invites us to deeply reflect on the value of the time granted to us and on the importance of cultivating and strengthening the bonds we forge throughout our lives.

When a parent begins their final journey, this event, as natural as it is painful, marks a transcendental milestone in the chronicle of our lives. In this emotional eclipse, our inner universe, once bathed in the warm and comforting light of their presence, is plunged into a disconcerting and overwhelming darkness. However, it is in this transitory darkness that hidden facets of our human condition are illuminated: the unfathomable depth of love, whose magnitude is only fully appreciated in the existential void created by absence and in the acute feeling of loneliness, the unwavering strength of family ties, which transcend physical barriers, persisting beyond life itself, or the very essence of our being, forged in part by those who preceded us in our lineage.

When those who gave us life fade into the veil of oblivion or are snatched away by the relentless claws of time, a part of our being seems to dissolve with them. However, in this loss, we also find an invitation to honor their memory and to embrace with greater intensity the gift of life they bestowed upon us. Their absence becomes a presence that inspires us to live with greater fullness and purpose.

Our parents are the architects of our personal narrative, the unseen co-authors of our story.

They are the only ones who have witnessed chapters of our lives that they may never have revealed, moments hidden in the folds of their memory, memories that death will inevitably erase. They are the custodians of our childhood, treasuring in an ethereal album countless unique and unrepeatable moments: from our first babbles, so tender and innocent, to those trembling steps with which we bravely conquered the world, the fears that gripped us in the darkness of night and the nightmares that only the warmth of their hugs could dispel. They also keep our first illusions and the tears of the disappointments that marked our beginnings. Silent witnesses of our lives.

With their departure, an essential part of us begins to fade, as if our journey through this world is starting to blur. We are like an old photograph whose edges blur with the relentless passage of time, turning us, little by little, into shadows of what we were, into ever-fainter echoes of the children who used to run joyfully along the paths of time. In this twilight of memory, we cling with all our might to who we are today, aware that one day we too will fade into the fog of oblivion. And meanwhile, with a heavy heart, we feel the very essence of what we once were slipping through our fingers, that priceless essence that resides only in the hearts of those who gave us life and who are now leaving, taking with them an irreplaceable part of our story.

We don’t often realize it. Yet, at every moment, in the silent passage of days, witnesses to our world disappear, both our own world and the worlds we never got to know but of which they were protagonists. Fifty or a hundred years of life evaporate into thin air, carrying with them the experiences of a previous era, the echoes of past times, the voices of our ancestors that resonate in their memories.

However, their departure is not the end of their story, but the beginning of a new chapter where their love transcends the physical and becomes an inseparable part of who we are.

Thus, every decision we make, every act of love we offer the world, becomes a tribute to their lives. We are the fruit of their love, the echo of their teachings, the continuation of their dreams.

Our parents sowed in us seeds of hope and ambition. They envisioned, perhaps, a more promising tomorrow, filled with possibilities that eluded them, and achievements that the passage of time denied them. Today, we are the custodians of those dreams, carrying them deep within ourselves, shaping and adapting them to our own life journey, but always preserving the flame of their aspirations. Every triumph we reap, every challenge we overcome, is not only a step toward realizing our own ambitions, but also the materialization of the hopes our parents placed in us. We are the living continuation of their story, the standard-bearers of their vision in a relay race that transcends generations. They left their indelible mark on this amazing, sometimes heartbreaking, other times sublime, always fascinating journey we call life.

In memory of Francisco Massó Losa, in homage to his extraordinary condition of human being. The person to whom I owe everything I am. What I hope to be.

Francisco Massó Mora.

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