
Lately I have been asking to myself, do we really forgive? Is it really that easy?.
Yesterday I went to the local shop close to my house. When I was waiting at the counter to pay I saw a box full of poppies. For those who don’t know poppies are used in Britain as symbols of remembrance for those who fought on the First World War and also as representation of hope for a peaceful future.
I had mixed feelings when I saw them. Part of me felt like that wasn’t the proper place to remember them, I guess I would choose a more sacred place but on the other hand I realised the level of normalisation that small box brings to everyday life.
Later on the day my sisters shared with me a letter from my great grandfather. His name was Manuel Montequin. He fought during the civil war under the republican forces and was killed by the nationalists. Apparently some neighbours informed against him, a common practise at that time.
This is what he wrote;
Gijon, 8 December 1937
For Aurora Pezon
Dear wife,
I have received your letter. That is how I know you and all the family have good health.
Aurora, these will be the last words I send you because my end is very close. I know you are trying hard to help me but unfortunately there is nothing else you can do. Poor thing …
I ask you to be an honest mother and take care of all our children, please don’t leave them, they will be miserable. I also ask you, one day, to tell them who are the ones responsible for my death. The ones responsible for leaving my kids so early without even know some of them. Don’t stop remind them who they are and what they did to me, so one day they know what they have to do. They are the ones who hit me to dead and made me leave this world punished in this way.
I also asked you don’t believe anything those in power tell you and don’t accept any offers or presents they give you. There are all lies. Always hate them.
It is going to be hard for you to take care of our children by yourself but I know it will be something you will feel proud at the end. They will always remember how hard it was for you and that will make them be good.
Now I say goodbye forever. Receive one million kisses and hugs from me. I would love to give them in person .. Please also say goodbye to my dad and brothers.
Don’t give any money to church .. I beg you. They are hypocrites.
Viva la Republica
Reading that letter took me there with him. To a tiny and dirty cell in jail. His body still hurting from the beating. His heart broken by the news he was going to be killed, by the fact he wasn’t going to see his family never again. I could feel the hate in his words … ‘remind them who are responsible for my death, hate the church, don’t trust, don’t give’.
Those words still resonate in my head and bring my own memories, the consequences of those words. Yesterday was the first time I read this letter but it feels like if someone was whispering those words in my ear all my life. Don’t trust them, don’t give them, hate them ..
And that is what I did. What we all did. What we still do.
After reading the letter I talked with a friend, also Spanish but with a different story. Her family fought with the nationalists. She told me her grandfather was a lawyer and after fighting with the nationalists he spent his life trying to stop them killing republicans.
This story brought a bit of peace, a bit of hope. Sometimes I can’t accept too much suffering, it is like it is impossible to hold the madness of human behaviour.
But still all those memories kept coming to my head. All the bodies still buried by the roads in Spain. All those families who lived with the blame, all the stories they told them about their dead fathers, grandfathers who still rest, far from peaceful, waiting to be remembered, for their suffering to be recognised, for their scars to be healed.
Forgiveness. Is it really that easy?
I have a question for you. A question I ask to myself. How long does it take to forgive?
Last weekend I met a friend who reminded me of a fight I had several years ago with another friend. Apparently she was still angry about it. I said it is fine, it was long time ago. I don’t think about it anymore...
But the next day I found myself fighting in my head the same battle I did when the fight happened. The anger and frustration came back like it was yesterday.
So I wonder again. Do we really forgive? What does it take and how long to forgive deeply. To really feel in peace.
How do we make a whole nation, an entire country to forgive?
I don’t have an answer but this image came to my head;
A box full of poppies by the counter.