seems to be becoming a sort of habit in this blog off from time to time the story of our life together, stop a moment and look down, so to speak . This is one of those occasions. I have to explain something about the fact of continuing with this story, you will not mind that almost no one, probably to anyone, except perhaps to us, her family, the closest relatives and close friends. What are the reasons that pushed me then to continue with what is probably the blog less often in the history of the Internet?. The reasons are various, and very specific. Despite the pain it causes (which caused me, rather. This is another aspect that I wanted to mention to today) rummaging through memories and photographs, outweigh the reasons to follow, that the reasons for quitting.
First, and that's something I've almost gotten into since I started to have the use of reason, I believe that every human life, whatever, is worth counted. There is nothing more important in the world of memories, experiences, emotions, stories, tragedies, beliefs, principles, joys, sorrows and knowledge, which are enclosed inside a human brain. Either, say, from the most famous of the least threatening to pawn whatever their place of birth. Everyone deserves that their experiences are rare. Do you not occur to you that asistÃs gawking, after the family meals, to the story from his youth that tells the grandmother? Can relate better or worse, with grace or with a total weight, but always fascinated by what it says. Why? Because we are human, neither more nor less and we are nourished by the stories we tell other human beings.
For that reason, Pilar was not going to be less. He had a life worth telling, not only for their experience and intelligence that was, and rapids, but it was able to bring to all who had the great fortune to meet. He had his bad moments, like everyone else, and his hobbies, of course, but the good thing abundantly dark evil. She said we had to always see the glass half full, and that's what we're doing now to remember.
Another reason, probably as powerful or even more than that kind of tribute that I think he deserves Pilar, and is the that your child knows a little more tomorrow. It would be foolish of me to pretend that tomorrow my son will read this blog, but if I did, I think I would to get a fairly accurate idea of \u200b\u200bwhat they experienced that person who not only brought the world, but was able to instill the values \u200b\u200byou have now. Do not forget that Sergio lost his mother just turned fourteen, an age old enough to absorb the loss, but child enough to not understand too well what it is that loss. Age difficult, complicated, which is already beginning to move from their parents. It is possible that some of you in the future, I bring these pages as a way to get to know what was his mother. We all know stories of our parents, "war stories" to not pay much attention, partly because our parents (mine and those of Pilar, I mean) are still there, and will be at the next meal to tell them things. Do not you think it would be nice if someone would be responsible for gathering, remembering those stories to read when they were not? That's what I'm trying to do this blog. Translating those twenty years together before my memory fails. I know at least two people (my son and myself) to someday be interested all this, and for that alone is worth a go.
I've noticed that most entries focus on trips that Pilar and I did, whether shorter or longer. It is inevitable. Ninety percent of the photographs are awakening my memories come from travel, as happens to most people. Nobody keeps many pictures of everyday life, unless you bought a new camera and is dedicated to pursuing his wife while doing some lentils or a clothesline. Also I have a few pictures of that, but not many, since each time this happened, the third or fourth picture Pilar sent me to hell. It is inevitable so do many mentions of those outings that were used to approach getting a little more, to know ourselves better. It is quite possible that sometimes even change the dates, or the order of travel. My memory is not enough for most, and although many of the photos I took the healthy habit of placing the date, many did not. You can not do anything, is a small tragedy, but I think the important thing is memory, the feeling of being repossessed when we undid the bags, not the exact date it occurred. There can be little dyslexia in that sense, but some there, I assure you.
And finally comes for me the most important what really is driving me back to this blog more and more eager. I'll try to explain in words my mood. With words and with a good image, they say that is worth a thousand words.
Please note the photo of Pilar who heads this post.
Yes, she is. That was Pilar. I vividly remember the day he took it. It was in Salamanca, after spending an unforgettable evening at the inn. A weekend out. Pilar was that day radiant, happy. It seems like yesterday when we climbed the hill leading to the cathedral. He walked quickly, sure "to find the frog on the facade of the University. That was Pilar. That was the pillar that I fell in love, the Pillar to which, after three years of dating, he decided to share my life. Pilar also a love, he enjoyed as a kid of his relationship with me. There were two real geese, I tell you. I rarely have seen a pair of lovebirds cloying in many parts of Spain.
I mean just that. That was Pilar. With this blog I am getting little by little that this pillar of truth, the real, which all have known, recovers its place in my memory in your memory, I guess, moving to a corner of our brain increasingly remote that Another pillar of the past months. Pilar
suffered, that is something that by now all you will have assimilated. The last months were a nightmare. Chemotherapy combined with the hernia that had been the last operation, hair loss, loss of defenses, become another pillar, which had nothing to do with the cheerful and willing Pilar had been all his life . Honestly, I do not think it fits right in our memories that last picture of Pilar, and the only way to achieve this is by watching pictures like that. No longer saddens me find a picture to illustrate a post. Quite the contrary. I find myself even laughing, remembering the stupid thing that led to some photographs by a true sense of the ridiculous place you dare not, but to me they mean a lot. Sergio Pilar half asleep in her arms, in a restaurant with a piece of bread coming out of the mouth, face of terror to a flash unexpected on my part ... Every time I see one of these pictures comes to mind that Pilar, the real, which all have known at one time or another. Some do not even you had the great privilege of knowing at that time (Jose, Loli), but it is possible that reading the blog and seeing the images, you can get an idea of \u200b\u200bwho he was and how life side on our friend Pilar.
The blog is helping me to overcome loss, because it involves a conscious effort to remember events, trips or situations. Memories that are blurring, for their strength and quality, the sad memories of the final. Nothing more, nothing less. So sorry, friends and family, but I think I will continue with our adventures aburriéndoos for a long time. At my pace. What are you going to do. We take a lot of tickets and still have not passed or three years since we started dating.
run the risk of having created a real soap opera, but I think I'm hooked. It happens.
First, and that's something I've almost gotten into since I started to have the use of reason, I believe that every human life, whatever, is worth counted. There is nothing more important in the world of memories, experiences, emotions, stories, tragedies, beliefs, principles, joys, sorrows and knowledge, which are enclosed inside a human brain. Either, say, from the most famous of the least threatening to pawn whatever their place of birth. Everyone deserves that their experiences are rare. Do you not occur to you that asistÃs gawking, after the family meals, to the story from his youth that tells the grandmother? Can relate better or worse, with grace or with a total weight, but always fascinated by what it says. Why? Because we are human, neither more nor less and we are nourished by the stories we tell other human beings.
For that reason, Pilar was not going to be less. He had a life worth telling, not only for their experience and intelligence that was, and rapids, but it was able to bring to all who had the great fortune to meet. He had his bad moments, like everyone else, and his hobbies, of course, but the good thing abundantly dark evil. She said we had to always see the glass half full, and that's what we're doing now to remember.
Another reason, probably as powerful or even more than that kind of tribute that I think he deserves Pilar, and is the that your child knows a little more tomorrow. It would be foolish of me to pretend that tomorrow my son will read this blog, but if I did, I think I would to get a fairly accurate idea of \u200b\u200bwhat they experienced that person who not only brought the world, but was able to instill the values \u200b\u200byou have now. Do not forget that Sergio lost his mother just turned fourteen, an age old enough to absorb the loss, but child enough to not understand too well what it is that loss. Age difficult, complicated, which is already beginning to move from their parents. It is possible that some of you in the future, I bring these pages as a way to get to know what was his mother. We all know stories of our parents, "war stories" to not pay much attention, partly because our parents (mine and those of Pilar, I mean) are still there, and will be at the next meal to tell them things. Do not you think it would be nice if someone would be responsible for gathering, remembering those stories to read when they were not? That's what I'm trying to do this blog. Translating those twenty years together before my memory fails. I know at least two people (my son and myself) to someday be interested all this, and for that alone is worth a go.
I've noticed that most entries focus on trips that Pilar and I did, whether shorter or longer. It is inevitable. Ninety percent of the photographs are awakening my memories come from travel, as happens to most people. Nobody keeps many pictures of everyday life, unless you bought a new camera and is dedicated to pursuing his wife while doing some lentils or a clothesline. Also I have a few pictures of that, but not many, since each time this happened, the third or fourth picture Pilar sent me to hell. It is inevitable so do many mentions of those outings that were used to approach getting a little more, to know ourselves better. It is quite possible that sometimes even change the dates, or the order of travel. My memory is not enough for most, and although many of the photos I took the healthy habit of placing the date, many did not. You can not do anything, is a small tragedy, but I think the important thing is memory, the feeling of being repossessed when we undid the bags, not the exact date it occurred. There can be little dyslexia in that sense, but some there, I assure you.
And finally comes for me the most important what really is driving me back to this blog more and more eager. I'll try to explain in words my mood. With words and with a good image, they say that is worth a thousand words.
Please note the photo of Pilar who heads this post.
Yes, she is. That was Pilar. I vividly remember the day he took it. It was in Salamanca, after spending an unforgettable evening at the inn. A weekend out. Pilar was that day radiant, happy. It seems like yesterday when we climbed the hill leading to the cathedral. He walked quickly, sure "to find the frog on the facade of the University. That was Pilar. That was the pillar that I fell in love, the Pillar to which, after three years of dating, he decided to share my life. Pilar also a love, he enjoyed as a kid of his relationship with me. There were two real geese, I tell you. I rarely have seen a pair of lovebirds cloying in many parts of Spain.
I mean just that. That was Pilar. With this blog I am getting little by little that this pillar of truth, the real, which all have known, recovers its place in my memory in your memory, I guess, moving to a corner of our brain increasingly remote that Another pillar of the past months. Pilar
suffered, that is something that by now all you will have assimilated. The last months were a nightmare. Chemotherapy combined with the hernia that had been the last operation, hair loss, loss of defenses, become another pillar, which had nothing to do with the cheerful and willing Pilar had been all his life . Honestly, I do not think it fits right in our memories that last picture of Pilar, and the only way to achieve this is by watching pictures like that. No longer saddens me find a picture to illustrate a post. Quite the contrary. I find myself even laughing, remembering the stupid thing that led to some photographs by a true sense of the ridiculous place you dare not, but to me they mean a lot. Sergio Pilar half asleep in her arms, in a restaurant with a piece of bread coming out of the mouth, face of terror to a flash unexpected on my part ... Every time I see one of these pictures comes to mind that Pilar, the real, which all have known at one time or another. Some do not even you had the great privilege of knowing at that time (Jose, Loli), but it is possible that reading the blog and seeing the images, you can get an idea of \u200b\u200bwho he was and how life side on our friend Pilar.
The blog is helping me to overcome loss, because it involves a conscious effort to remember events, trips or situations. Memories that are blurring, for their strength and quality, the sad memories of the final. Nothing more, nothing less. So sorry, friends and family, but I think I will continue with our adventures aburriéndoos for a long time. At my pace. What are you going to do. We take a lot of tickets and still have not passed or three years since we started dating.
run the risk of having created a real soap opera, but I think I'm hooked. It happens.
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