The Pope spoke to Carlos Herrera about euthanasia, about the culture of death and that of discarding. I was thinking of the latter when I ran into the writer Paco Robles on a pleasant walk with his wife Lola Chaves , whom I have known since my beginnings in the profession a little over twenty-five years ago. The discard is to sideline the sick and disadvantaged, of course not to bet on life and let any problem or discomfort pass by turning a blind eye, fleeing if necessary. We have all celebrated the life of Paco Robles, seeing him again, hearing and reading him. We all live for a few days anchored in prayer, asking Lola herself or the certain friend in the uncertain hour that is Jose Antonio Zamora .
They were going to get married before the misfortune and they got married, of course they got married, after it. Lola gives every day without intending it the proclamation of love, commitment and seriousness. Because people have to be serious like those Nazarenes from Passion of the high wax that announce the arrival of Paco’s dedication. Lola was and stayed. She couldn’t be any other way. And there he is with the writer. Today the same as yesterday. His example is gold in the discard society, in that of selfishly understood well-being, in that of using and throwing away people and things, in that of the speed that does not give you even a compassionate look. How many times have they crossed paths, have they thought about it and have not said itThere are people called to take care of others, but to really do it when no one is watching. And those people are the essentials. Of course our Robles, our dear Paco, has been strong in adversity. And Lola too. Of course he overcame the misfortune, he came up and strives every day to continue scrutinizing reality, speaking and tweeting. And Lola is her life, her hold, her sustenance, her arm to lean on, her shoulder to cry on, her chat partner. Lola didn’t run away. And that is said little or nothing where it has to be said. We praise superfluous, banal and showcase bravery, when we have in front of ourselves a solid testimony of love.
This society forgives and praises those who flee from difficulty because we have embedded that we must enjoy, live, always push downhill and put into practice that verb as stupid as it is to disconnect, from work of course. Quite the contrary. The brave man stays and sticks his ballet flats in the albero of reality no matter how much the python threatens the groin of his stability . The Pope said it and I thought of Lola, the professional companion who smiles next to our Paco Robles, who loud and clear can boast of his wife as King Alfonso of his beloved city: she has not left me . love is called