Friday, April 18, 2014

Thank you for the books, Gabo.

"...a person doesn’t die when he should but when he can.”
Gabriel Garcí­a Márquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude

I don't often mourn the death of public figures, but there are some who has touched me irrevocably through their passion, that the sadness pinches my heart. Yesterday, I bade Gabriel Garcia Marquez,  goodbye.  No one heard, as no one should.  He never knew me, and I him, but in his time, he brought me joy, sorrow, angst, and magic. There was something so powerful in his writing that you may forget what it's about, but the feeling remains well after you've read his books. The truth is I only read a handful of his books, 3 as I recall, maybe 4, and I don't remember the plots and twists of all of them, but I can easily conjure up the images that stood out - those that frightened me, some surreal, and some which can only possibly thought of by a genius as Gabo.  The way that he painted his characters was so full of love and life, and yet so transparent. If he was describing someone you love, you cannot help but feel a pang of jealousy. His words were intoxicating.
To him she seemed so beautiful, so seductive, so different from ordinary people, that he could not understand why no one was as disturbed as he by the clicking of her heels on the paving stones, why no one else's heart was wild with the breeze stirred by the sighs of her veils, why everyone did not go mad with the movements of her braid, the flight of her hands, the gold of her laughter. He had not missed a single one of her gestures, not one of the indications of her character, but he did not dare approach her for fear of destroying the spell.”

Growing up, I didn't really learn much about history of other countries. So, I didn't even know until much later on that One Hundred Years of Solitude was a metaphoric rendition of the history of Colombia.  I read it in College, at a tender age of 16, and found it hard to keep track of all the many Aurelianos, Joses, Remedios, and Renatas that were the protagonists/antagonists in the 7 generation saga.  Still, one vision stood out, Remedios the beauty floating up, up, up in the air...never to be seen again...while doing something so mundane - hanging clothes to dry. The sheets remained flapping in the breeze, seemingly waving goodbye.  This ethereal image was too perfect, so pure, as was the character. That image still comes to me on days when I see a paper blowing in the wind, or when a dandelion floats gently with the breeze... It calms me.

Farewell, Gabo, and thank you.

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