My Soul - Mi Alma (Ongoing)

26 Mama, Mick, Stuart and me

 Spending four days with my Gabriel and Juan changed me – I felt so grown up. Little did I know it was the last time I would see my brother alive. Gabriel was much like Abuela – bubbly and lighthearted. I have much more of Abuelo's darkness. Where he was open, I was reserved. We were Yin and Yang. When he died so brutally in Sevilla, by sharp shots ordered by Juan and Sebastian's oldest brother, just a couple of months after I had been there visiting him,– we were all devastated, and some things died inside all of us. 

I don't know if Juan kissed me because he felt sorry for me and was sad to lose his best friend or attracted to the 13 years old girl who scratched our initials into the bay window in the dining room in that wonderful house in Sevilla. At least, in the worst moment of my life, he made it lighter, and he made my heart beat faster. Papa felt he had failed in securing Gabriel's life, and he was a changed man. I remember he went back to Barcelona to fix some things, and a few days later, mama/Abuela and I were on a flight to New York, and I never saw Juan again until I talked with him when I called you, and you were in Sevilla. 

You know – Sebastian Alvarez said he didn't want to marry before Franco was gone, and Spain could start breathing again. He married just after Franco died, and he and his family, that was rapidly growing, came with us to Perpignan every year. I even babysat Carlos when he was a baby during our summer holidays in Perpignan. Abuelo told you he never went back to Spain – that is wrong. He was back several times every summer to meet with his old comrades; he was a political front figure on the left side of Spanish politics till he drew his last breath. But he never stayed in Spain for long, usually only for a day or two. I'm so happy he died before Trump became president, that would have taken away his trust in American democracy.

 You know, mi Corazon that it was during one of our summer holidays in Perpignan that Picasso made that painting of me, where I am naturalistic, but am drawing Picasso style. Papa/Abuelo made me promise that regardless of what happened with us in life, that would be the last painting we would sell – that is why it's still in your house, not mine. Your dad can only see the monetary value, not the emotional value of that painting. Fun fact – papa was furious with me when I first took you to "Teatro del Dali" in Figueres. Dali was a fascist, and Abuelo despised him – but that museum made you love Goya". Mama sat in deep thoughts.

"I don't understand, if we used to go to Perpignan with the Alvarez family why didn't I know them?" 

Mama looks at me and says "They got their own summer house in Mallorca, and spent their summers there. Besides Sebastian never felt comfortable around Josh"  

"Talking of dad – why have you stayed? You knew that "Sachs&Goldberg" were working with pretty immoral issues. That they made their money moving corrupt people's money around and helping both Spanish Franco ministers and companies re-establish themselves in countries where they could spend their own and, more importantly, the people's money without being watched. They have also helped other corrupt businessmen and politicians from various nations around the world. The company has blood on their hands, and you knew it when you married dad, a man who stands for everything Abuelo worked against his entire life, why?" I asked her.

"The short answer is I love him" mama took another sip of her wine. "The long one is way more complicated. When dad and I met, neither of our families were thrilled – to say the least. When I found out I was pregnant with you, we were thrilled – and just booked a flight to Las Vegas and got married there. Your dad's father threatened to kick him from the law firm, and my parents offered to buy me an apartment, so I could raise you alone. Neither of the families talked to the other. 

I got severely ill after the pregnancy, with cancer in my placenta, and removed my uterus. My parents were there for me; your father's parents never showed up. I think I talked with them four times in total after you were born. When my parents understood that I would stay on in my marriage to Josh, My papa said, let's all agree on putting the family history in a tightly lidded jar. Alma has nothing to do with choices made before she was born. One day when she is old enough she will make her own conclusions. 

 I had never been to the Port Hyannis house before your paternal grandparents died; Josh took you there alone on holiday with his parents when you were little. When they died on 9.11. 2001 on the first flight that hit the Twin Towers, I didn't even go to the funeral. 

I begged your dad to change the course of the law firm, to start doing human rights and environmental cases instead of helping rich international companies and individuals move their money around– but he was too caught up in the system and refused flatly.

 I debated with myself about staying or leaving, but I couldn't leave the love of my life, so I shut my eyes instead. I'm sorry, my emotions got the better of the political me, and as papa predicted – you have made your own conclusions Alma, and I'm proud of you" My mama hugged me tightly.

"So how do we go forward from here – what about a family dinner here next Sunday with all the four parents, Alma and me – let us have a transparency meeting," Mick suggested.