vcnavega
December 12th, 2013, 04:50 PM
“Are you calmer now? Do you feel all right? You just told me a breathtaking story with such a rational mood, I am intrigued myself. You loved your brother, everyone who we are close to is unique, and yet you described that scene as if you were describing your CPR classes.”
“Come on, please, shed some tears. Why can’t you allow yourself? Let this report of your story become the branches of that tree you were under when you first wrote to me. My heartbeat is already fast and strong – that is what your story did to me. If deep breaths sooth your mind, please, breathe deeply. You don’t need to be rational anymore. Please, allow yourself to feel.”
“I feel, I mean, I am okay now. Breathing deeply always soothes me. But I still have lots to tell. If I stayed here and just cried that image would never vanish. You see, Valter had the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. When he wore a green shirt, his eyes turned green; a blue one, blue eyes; gray, brown, a range of colors I can’t describe – and I can’t even remember, because now I have only in my mind that image, his lifeless eyes staring at me. So, please, allow me to continue telling my story, for I had to be strong to fulfill his wishesand deal with a bureaucratic hell.”
“Of course, keep describing what happened next.”
“When he fell, his head bumped into the floor, and some blood came out. I had to get permission from a judge to get his body cremated, and for that I had to get a report from the police, that there wasn’t any violence, that he had died from a heart attack. My elder brother, Sergio, helped me as much as he could, but he ended up just being the driver. I was the one who begged the authorities to be fast - his funeral ceremony in India was set for a very auspicious date, which wasn’t far off.”
“I had to visit the India Consulate too, to get the documentation I needed to enter in India with my brother’s ashes. The consul of India at that time was a good friend of mine, he knew Valter too, and he also gave me a document for me to transit in Italy with my brother’s ashes. Apparently, people sometimes try to smuggle drugs disguised as ashes, so those documents were really important.”
“We had our Christian ceremonies too, most of my relatives were Catholics, or Baptists and they had their opportunity to offer their prayers for my deceased brother.”
“I was the one who informed our brother, Eduardo, who lives in United States; and I was the one who informed Valter’s friends in Italy about his death. In fact, I was the one who brought this news to everyone. I didn’t hear once “I am sorry for your loss”. I just heard people saying ‘It can’t be it’, ‘What am I going to do?’, and I was the one to console them all.”
“Things got even worse when I reached Milan. I was received by a group of his followers. My brother was a well-known astrologer, who gave his life and soul to make people’s lives more bearable. I knew some of them, from my visits to Italy, and they got me a room in a gorgeous hotel. The next day I spoke at the institute where my brother had worked; and then I’d leave for India with four of his friends, who accompanied me to the burial ceremonies.”
“The gathering at the institute was a strong experience for me. I knew those people were desperate, because they depended on my brother’s advice, and now they felt lost. I knew my brother astrological style, I am an astrologer too, but we were very different. He was almost psychic, and I am more technical. I am a brunette, he was blond - we didn’t at all look like brother and sister. My Italian was not that good, but I had to speak to them and bring them some relief. They were expecting the soul of my brother to incorporate on me or something of that kind, and I didn’t want to let them down.”
“Believe it or not, that’s exactlywhat happened. I spoke Italian fluently, people would say their names, and I would recall my brother telling me their life stories, so I gave them advice, reminding them of what my brother had told them before he died. There was no crying, it was a happy celebration, they all seemed to understand he was a too special soul to be entrapped in this world, and I felt my mission in Italy was accomplished. I would be back to Italy on my way back to Brazil, after leaving India, and then I would check if there was something on his stuff worth bringing back home to my mum.”
“I had a huge problem checking his ashes in as my carry-on bag back at the São Paulo airport. So I decided to put them inside my luggage, instead of going through the hell I did in the Brazilian airport. Although I was worried about it the whole flight, nothing happened to them though - they reached Delhi safe and sound.”
“Milan is a gray and cold city. I don’t know how my brother could have lived there for so many years. I’ve never liked Milan, I only tolerated being there because of him, and now I was there without him – well, I had his ashes. I was happy when the plane took off and we headed to my beloved India. Rich people from Italy gave me lots of euros for poor people in India. Now I ask you, unknown addressee, who is the happiest among them?”
“Oh, Italy… io ho tanto da fare per te, per mio fratello...pero è troppo dificile per me stare con te senza lui...” (Oh, Italy...I have so much to do for you, for my brother... but it is too hard for me to be with you without him...)
“I am crying because I will have to face this heritage. He always wanted me to go to Italy to give some courses on Vedic Sciences, but we never had time for that. Now he is gone, he is gone, and Italy doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”
“Now I lean on my chair in this flight to India. I want to take some rest. People in this flight keep talking in Italian and sometimes one can’t take this strong accent anymore. Sometimes it seems they are fighting, but I know it is just the way it sounds. Leaving Italy is leaving a part of my brother, burying him again. I am burying my brother in pieces – so many people he was.”
“At every step I need to rest, but I don’t rest as I need. Still, here you are, my reader, previously an unknown addressee, but now a companion of this traveler I am, crossing the world to fulfill a vow I didn’t know I had made.”
“Come on, please, shed some tears. Why can’t you allow yourself? Let this report of your story become the branches of that tree you were under when you first wrote to me. My heartbeat is already fast and strong – that is what your story did to me. If deep breaths sooth your mind, please, breathe deeply. You don’t need to be rational anymore. Please, allow yourself to feel.”
“I feel, I mean, I am okay now. Breathing deeply always soothes me. But I still have lots to tell. If I stayed here and just cried that image would never vanish. You see, Valter had the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. When he wore a green shirt, his eyes turned green; a blue one, blue eyes; gray, brown, a range of colors I can’t describe – and I can’t even remember, because now I have only in my mind that image, his lifeless eyes staring at me. So, please, allow me to continue telling my story, for I had to be strong to fulfill his wishesand deal with a bureaucratic hell.”
“Of course, keep describing what happened next.”
“When he fell, his head bumped into the floor, and some blood came out. I had to get permission from a judge to get his body cremated, and for that I had to get a report from the police, that there wasn’t any violence, that he had died from a heart attack. My elder brother, Sergio, helped me as much as he could, but he ended up just being the driver. I was the one who begged the authorities to be fast - his funeral ceremony in India was set for a very auspicious date, which wasn’t far off.”
“I had to visit the India Consulate too, to get the documentation I needed to enter in India with my brother’s ashes. The consul of India at that time was a good friend of mine, he knew Valter too, and he also gave me a document for me to transit in Italy with my brother’s ashes. Apparently, people sometimes try to smuggle drugs disguised as ashes, so those documents were really important.”
“We had our Christian ceremonies too, most of my relatives were Catholics, or Baptists and they had their opportunity to offer their prayers for my deceased brother.”
“I was the one who informed our brother, Eduardo, who lives in United States; and I was the one who informed Valter’s friends in Italy about his death. In fact, I was the one who brought this news to everyone. I didn’t hear once “I am sorry for your loss”. I just heard people saying ‘It can’t be it’, ‘What am I going to do?’, and I was the one to console them all.”
“Things got even worse when I reached Milan. I was received by a group of his followers. My brother was a well-known astrologer, who gave his life and soul to make people’s lives more bearable. I knew some of them, from my visits to Italy, and they got me a room in a gorgeous hotel. The next day I spoke at the institute where my brother had worked; and then I’d leave for India with four of his friends, who accompanied me to the burial ceremonies.”
“The gathering at the institute was a strong experience for me. I knew those people were desperate, because they depended on my brother’s advice, and now they felt lost. I knew my brother astrological style, I am an astrologer too, but we were very different. He was almost psychic, and I am more technical. I am a brunette, he was blond - we didn’t at all look like brother and sister. My Italian was not that good, but I had to speak to them and bring them some relief. They were expecting the soul of my brother to incorporate on me or something of that kind, and I didn’t want to let them down.”
“Believe it or not, that’s exactlywhat happened. I spoke Italian fluently, people would say their names, and I would recall my brother telling me their life stories, so I gave them advice, reminding them of what my brother had told them before he died. There was no crying, it was a happy celebration, they all seemed to understand he was a too special soul to be entrapped in this world, and I felt my mission in Italy was accomplished. I would be back to Italy on my way back to Brazil, after leaving India, and then I would check if there was something on his stuff worth bringing back home to my mum.”
“I had a huge problem checking his ashes in as my carry-on bag back at the São Paulo airport. So I decided to put them inside my luggage, instead of going through the hell I did in the Brazilian airport. Although I was worried about it the whole flight, nothing happened to them though - they reached Delhi safe and sound.”
“Milan is a gray and cold city. I don’t know how my brother could have lived there for so many years. I’ve never liked Milan, I only tolerated being there because of him, and now I was there without him – well, I had his ashes. I was happy when the plane took off and we headed to my beloved India. Rich people from Italy gave me lots of euros for poor people in India. Now I ask you, unknown addressee, who is the happiest among them?”
“Oh, Italy… io ho tanto da fare per te, per mio fratello...pero è troppo dificile per me stare con te senza lui...” (Oh, Italy...I have so much to do for you, for my brother... but it is too hard for me to be with you without him...)
“I am crying because I will have to face this heritage. He always wanted me to go to Italy to give some courses on Vedic Sciences, but we never had time for that. Now he is gone, he is gone, and Italy doesn’t mean anything to me anymore.”
“Now I lean on my chair in this flight to India. I want to take some rest. People in this flight keep talking in Italian and sometimes one can’t take this strong accent anymore. Sometimes it seems they are fighting, but I know it is just the way it sounds. Leaving Italy is leaving a part of my brother, burying him again. I am burying my brother in pieces – so many people he was.”
“At every step I need to rest, but I don’t rest as I need. Still, here you are, my reader, previously an unknown addressee, but now a companion of this traveler I am, crossing the world to fulfill a vow I didn’t know I had made.”