Fotos de mi papá en su taller publicadas en una revista de la Fundación Bigott de los años 90

My father was an older man, with an incredible spirit of work, he always worked vehemently to give the best for his family, he had a very hard life, he made his way through every obstacle and although he suffered a lot along the way, he was able to get ahead, he had a strong character but he was a very sensitive person to the pain of others, he was always willing to help the most disadvantaged, the sick, the elderly and children, he was a man with a voice so deep that he could scare in the morning when his strings vocals were cold, but just by witnessing the suffering of a child asking for food in the street, an old man asking for money for a medicine, his gaze turned crystalline and his "allergy" appeared, the perfect excuse to camouflage his tears , while his thick, old, venous, and callused hands were always looking for his wallet to help whoever needed it.

Foto con mi papá en su cumpleaños 72

Mi papá siempre fue mi mejor ejemplo de superación, porque aunque nunca tuvo dinero como para tener una vida completamente cómoda, logró sacar a sus hijos adelante después de enviudar de su primer esposa, quien lo dejó con el dolor de su partida y con 4 hijos , el último de ellos apenas de 4 meses de nacido, mi papá inicio toda una aventura en la búsqueda de un nuevo horizonte, abandonando el campo, mudándose a la ciudad y empezando a sus cuarenta y tantos años una nueva profesión, de manera autodidacta aprendió el oficio de lutier, comenzó a fabricar instrumentos musicales de cuerda y se convirtió en todo un icono cultural de mi país, conoció a mi mamá y como si el destino lo tuviera preparado todo tuvo dos hijas mas, yo soy la última de ellas y me enorgullece decir que aunque yo nací cuando el tenia 61 años, las manos de mi papá siempre estuvieron allí para sujetarme por todo el tiempo que su cuerpo se lo permitió.

My dad was always my best example of self-improvement, because although he never had money to have a completely comfortable life, he managed to raise his children after being widowed by his first wife, who left him with the pain of death and with 4 children , the last of them barely 4 months old, my dad started an adventure in search of a new horizon, leaving the countryside, moving to the city and starting a new profession at his forty-something, he learned in a self-taught way the trade of luthier, he began to manufacture string musical instruments and became a cultural icon of my country, he met my mother and as if fate had prepared everything, he had two more daughters, I am the last of them and I It is proud to say that although I was born when he was 61 years old, my dad's hands were always there to hold me for as long as his body allowed.

Foto con mi papá cuando egresé de primaria

Mis manos son largas, no gruesas como las de mi papá sin embargo tengo tendencia a que mis venas se noten mucho, siento que es un rasgo heredado de mi padre a quien yo observaba mucho tiempo cuando de niña me la pasaba en su taller jugando con los restos de madera que el desechaba, creando cosas y a veces el me ayudaba en mis inventos. A veces siento que las manos de mi padre aun me cuidan y que cada vez que tomo un material y lo convierto en otra cosa bien sea un tejido, una pintura, una manualidad, es como si las manos de mi papá me guiaran en el proceso y me dieran su fuerza.

My hands are long, not thick like my dad's, however I have a tendency for my veins to show up a lot, I feel that it is a trait inherited from my father, whom I observed for a long time when as a child I spent it in his workshop playing with the remains of wood that he discarded, creating things and sometimes he helped me in my inventions. Sometimes I feel that my father's hands still take care of me and that every time I take a material and turn it into something else, whether it be a fabric, a painting, a craft, it is as if my father's hands guide me in the process and give me their strength.

Foto con mi papá en su cumpleaños 85 (el último)

Mi papá murió en 2014 a los 85 casi 86 años, después de sufrir por bastante tiempo de demencia senil, dicha enfermedad no le causó ningún malestar físico, pero su mente se había ido casi por competo en ese entonces, este 10 de junio se cumplen 7 años de la dolorosa partida de ese corazón que ya no pudo sostener el peso de tan poderosas manos, llenas de valor y trabajo duro. A menudo los pensamientos negativos rondan en mi cabeza, antes sentí que el también tenía ese tipo de pensamientos, pero eso solo me hace pensar que como humano que él era no estaba exento del sufrimiento que a veces o produce la existencia en muchos aspectos de la vida, como querer hacer más o haber hecho más de los que hicimos, pero yo estaría feliz si mis manos solo pudieran estar un poco cerca de lo valerosas que fueron las manos de mi padre.

My father died in 2014 at 85, almost 86 years old, after suffering from senile dementia for a long time, this disease did not cause him any physical discomfort, but his mind had almost completely gone at that time, this June 10 is fulfilled 7 years of the painful departure of that heart that could no longer support the weight of such powerful hands, full of courage and hard work. Negative thoughts often haunt my head, before I felt that he also had these types of thoughts, but that only makes me think that as a human that he was, he was not exempt from the suffering that sometimes exists in many aspects of life. life, like wanting to do more or have done more than we did, but I would be happy if my hands could only be a little close to how brave my father's hands were.

Espero les haya gustado. Les invito a leer mis próximas publicaciones y siempre estaré dispuesta a responder sus preguntas y comentarios ¡Muchas gracias!

I hope you liked it. I invite you to read my next publications and I will always be willing to answer your questions and comments, Thank you!