As I write this text, Elier’s mother is on her way to Matanzas.
She travels the same distance as a year ago when they began to say that he was dead, but her mother’s heart said the opposite: «My son was always a warrior».
I remember her that Sunday with her eyes swollen from crying so much, under the embrace of «Tay» and waiting for a medical report that was always with a reserved prognosis as he had burns in more than 50 percent of his body.
There with her, Elier’s aunts, her husband and brother, too much alike. Several hearts united in faith. Upstairs, in therapy, hers beating loudly, «Can you hear it?»
In her mind the same words, «Mommy, I’m not afraid, I’m the first in line.»
Elier loved his job, he loved being a firefighter. He had the gift of being loved by everyone: a kind of protector.
Matanzas became that second home that saw him grow, mature and develop. Reasons enough for Elier’s mother to return to the city this August 5th.
I know it has been a difficult year for her, as I also know that when he was transferred to the hospital he was asking for a phone to talk.
Only later would all this make sense: it was his mother who was his first and last thought.
Written by Yunielys Moliner Isasi.