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My hands, your master piece

Is always hard to say goodbye. There is never right words or right moment. We will always want more, even if is just one last minute to just sat: Thank you, I will miss you...

Last night my mom gave me some news that have made my heart go into deep sadness, My friend Fidel is dead. You might be asking why I'm sharing this with you? Well Fide, made SO many things possible in me. I met him when I was ten years old in a Cuban hospital, I remember his first words to me and my mom... "If you let me and you are strong, I will use this white canvas and make it my work of art". He was tough, I used to spend my early mornings and late afternoons with him. He was like what we see in movies, he was my bodies mentor. I have never seen or met anyone more determent. Hours we used spend moving little pieces from one board to an other, finger by finger, he's hand would hold mine in the right position, even if the pain was unbearable for my body and for his soul. I told him so many times I hated him, why would someone a put little girl in so much pain?, I used to ask.  Now I get it, every time I hold a cup, I write a note or I simple wipe my tears away, because of him that I have strength in my hands to hold yours.

I remember some days when I was in extreme pain but he HAD to keep going, he used to recite my favorite cuban poem, to make my mind go somewhere else, somewhere that was sunny and the sand was white. People say that in life you are supposed to write a book plant a tree and have child. He had three wonderful kids, he's book and his tree you can see in me.



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