Two Sundays - PhMuseum

An agony of more than two years accompanied my family, which finally ended with the death of my two maternal grandparents, just two Sundays away.

After a fall in 2019, Emilse Ester, my grandmother, could no longer get up. Little by little she faded away, losing day by day a little of her brightness and enthusiasm, that spark that characterized her, and for which she was recognized in so many places.

Ester, as she was known, had 10 children, one lost before he was born and another, Rosita, the fourth of the litter, died of asbestosis, that was her great sorrow. She breathed her last surrounded by her children, who for years took turns taking care of her, day and night, rain or shine. At the time of her death, her husband was hospitalized and isolated due to a possible case of tuberculosis, perhaps their longest separation in a long time.

It was said that my grandmother waited for her husband to leave the house to die in peace, because above all, Ester was an old-fashioned woman; good for quick carving, for easy doodling, but macho and would never leave her husband alone, even though she suffered the worst of patriarchy from him.

On the other hand, Alfredo, my grandfather, her husband, was separated from the world, while his companion of decades died. Only God will know what went through his mind, his heart, and his conscience. He arrived home an hour before the carriage took his wife's coffin, destiny gave him the opportunity to accompany her to the grave, to say his last goodbye.

After that day, when the neighborhood and the family became one to mourn and honor Ester's departure, my grandfather, el Tata, as he was known by everyone, decided to die, his life had no more meaning, "I have lived enough" he said determinedly. And so it was, his heart could not take any more, metaphorically of course, because it was the excesses of life, mainly alcohol, that led him to death.

They were gone. Gone forever, never to return. The family, almost in a coordinated way, breathed a deep sigh, "relief" was the most repeated word. Relief at not seeing the grandparents suffer anymore.

July took them away, they did not spend August, as the popular saying goes. It was one of the most difficult months for the family, the two pillars were gone, and something mystical took them both away together, each one in their own room, in the same house that accompanied them for more than 50 years in the rural area of Santiago, Chile.