Today, May 18, it’s been 10 years since we went out for the first time. You were all by yourself in that church in The Heights. I had asked you to come to a concert that Casa Argentina was sponsoring featuring the renowned group “Sur”. You stood out in the crowd; tall, elegant in an impeccable blue shirt I learned afterwards you only wore to special occasions. You were alone among totally unknown people. It was only after a while that you told me you didn’t particularly enjoy being with large groups. I know now how much courage and determination it must have taken you to do this. I somehow felt the need to go to your rescue and introduce you a couple of friends.
Everybody went into the church in anticipation of the beginning of the concert. I saw you sitting by yourself, and decided to go sit by you rather than with my group of friends to make you feel at home. I was attracted almost immediately to your solid and calm demeanor. I learned afterwards that you had already enquired whether I was single and available. The music started. I was totally taken by my sambas and chacareras. I was exploding with an inner Argentinean pride. I also learned later on that you had gone on a cruise to Patagonia and you had fallen in love with my country.
The intermission came along and, still in a trance, I asked you, “How did you like it?”, expecting an unequivocally affirmative answer, like, “Absolutely! I love this music!” I felt struck by thunder when your only comment was “The sound is not working properly!” I insisted,” Did you like it?” “Yes, but there’s something wrong with the sound”, you replied. I felt somewhat frustrated and disappointed that you wouldn’t echo my total elation. I added that you were welcome to help them out with the sound if you thought you could.
At the end of the concert, we walked slowly to the exit. Lots of friends were greeting me and some of them were waiting for me to go for dinner together. We allowed everyone else to go, and then you asked me” Would you like to go out for dinner?’ I immediately accepted. I got in my car and said:” Follow me!” I learned afterwards because you told me so that you were impressed and glad I showed initiative and self-reliance. We arrived in “Cucos”, the Mexican restaurant, our plan B since “Brenham, your choice, was actually closed. Over an unforgettable chicken soup, you told me the story of your life. You confided that your wife had died two years ago and that it was only now that you had decided to start living again. My heart felt your pain and I tried to give you solace and joy. The rest was unavoidable and it lasted almost nine years until you left this world unexpectedly and in no time.
Happy anniversary, sweetheart! I know you must be smiling because we would always disagree on the actual anniversary day. For you, it was May 12th, the day we had met, and for me it was May 18, the day of our first date. Thank you for coming into my life. Thank you for sharing good moments, wonderful trips, and lots of laughter, exquisite food, and unique company. Thank you for sticking it out with me through my illness. . Thank you for still being around, imperceptibly, but inwardly present. Thank you my dear Cavit. I will keep you in my heart forever.