Do we feel pain for the Commander in Chief’s Death? Let’s multiply by one million that pain and yet, we shall be far from what Raúl feels. This November 25th must have been one of the worst days in his life. Perhaps as sad as that unhappy occasion in which he lost the love of his life: The insuperable Vilma.
Through the Social Networks runs the last fragment of his allocution. When he finishes reading, he leans back in the chair, turns his head to one side and sighs, as trying to relieve all that in that moment squeezes his chest. It looks like it has cost him a lot to read those few lines; his voice, that at times seems to brake, gets to the end, till the last phrase, the one in which invites his dear people to victory forever, even when he himself is hurt, practically to death.
The news had to be given by him, only he was able to communicate such a pain to the Cuban people, though his heart was wretched for the leave-taking. I could not affirm it, but seeing him there, so lonely, I supposed that office was the last place in which he wanted to stay. In that moment and with such a pain, perhaps he would have felt more relief among the members of his family, surrounded by his sons and daughter, his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren, his friends, the companions of fight who still struggle against time, and his memories. But, the General of the Army, the President of Cuba, had to get rid of his condition of brother, had to be strong, and announce the world that Fidel, the founder of the Cuban Revolution, had died.
His words unchained a nonstop earthquake, an enormous wave that swallowed all of us and gave us the most distressful early morning in history. If it was that way for us, what dimension has the abyss opened to Raúl had at 10:29 in that night, November 25th 20l6? The one who was born at his side, studied in the same schools; followed him to Havana; escorted him doubtlessly to the Moncada; accompanied him to Mexico; came back with him on the Granma; walked up and down with him in the Sierra; and founded, on equal terms with him, the Revolution that saved us.
For that perennial commitment, in the year 2006, Fidel delegated all his positions on Raúl: First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Party, Commander in Chief of the Revolutionary Army, and President of the Councils of State and Ministers. Fidel’s health had infringed, but the most faithful brother was there. The story of that speech in which Fidel lost his voice and Raúl helped him was repeated again, but this time in a greater magnitude. Lina Ruz, the wise mother, knew that already. There in Birán, after Urrutia’s treason she clipped out his figure from the photo in which he accompanied Fidel, Camilo and Che. Then she placed Raúl and prophesized: “I going to put him here, because this will never betray his brother.”
It is said, by those who were close to him, Raúl was the first reader of the Commander’s reflections; and, we all know, Raúl consulted him all the decisions that implied the future of Cuba. They were two, but seemed one.
That is why tonight when my neighborhood throttles in a sad silence, I think about Raúl, his pains, his immense losses, his responsibility concerning Cuba, the superhuman effort he will have to make during these days to appear strong before a people that cries. We shall keep on standing with him, because Raúl is also Raúl.
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