A great honor

From left to right, top to bottom: Rafael, Ileana, Héctor, Pablo, Rafael (Pitín) and Lidia

Farewell to a bastion! 1925-2013

In, January 22, 2013, I had the privilege of being at the burial of one of the most beautiful and courageous men of this present age. He represented, in great measure, the end of a generation of doctors and poets that would serve and think first about their neighbor. I would tell him that they were real human beings that understood the praxis or practice of living that out. This was a man of integrity that knew how to give generously of his own existence to another, no matter the cost. Oh, if only I had the time and space to tell his stories! They are innumerable and joyous at the same time.

There was a time in Guatemala that was full of hatred and of a shaking of all that we knew. (I can say this with full authority and knowing because we were part of this story.) During this tense time under the oath of being an honorable doctor, he did not turn down the chance to save lives, even out of the public eye, and without expecting anything in return, he would save the life of an army general or that of a guerilla, that of a rich man or of a poor man (and there were many more poor ones than rich), of a man or woman. But the most wonderful part of it all was that he dedicated his life to saving the children of my dear Guatemala in many different ways, several of which were pioneering methods. Pioneering, you may ask? Without a doubt! It was part of a movement in Central America in search of pediatric attention for all children, full of love and dedication, given in a respectful manner, one of which afterward others would take advantage of to make themselves rich through their "intermediary" foundations (which continue on to today.) He was part of a movement in which architecture, engineering and all other institutions and all people would think of the well-being of the less fortunate (and again, others would take advantage of the good spirit of a noble generation to make themselves miserably rich.)

This is barely a grain of sand in the great beach of works that this great gentleman did. He is worthy of the titles I've used here to describe him culminating with this one: The most beautiful and courageous man of this present age. However, he did receive an even more lofty title than the one I have given. One of which those who surrounded him knew without a doubt was certain, he was and still is a child of God. In 1985 after having read the entire Bible cover to cover, this man had a true encounter with God and before a large group of men; he stood up and said, "My God is True, Jesus Christ is real." God came to him with such great love and conferred upon him this great privilege to be carried throughout eternity: to be called a child of God.

This man was my father and I would like to give him the humble and honored title that he lived with: Pitin. He always knew how to wear it well and he used it with much pride. And as all of us who loved him, stood before his grave said, "¡Adiós Pitíiiiin! ¡Nos vemos pronto! Goodbye, Pitin! We'll see you soon!”

His name for the moment is Dr. Rafael Pivaral Peralta. What name do my beloved God and Father have for him? Pitín, maybe? Enjoy the time because we know who goes before you giving you the best of himself.

Thanks to all of you who have accompanied us in the painful loss of my father. Thank you for your kind words and expressions of love. We would like to leave for you this motto for life that even as our loss is heaven's gain, "More than weep for him, we must imitate him."

My father

Poet, rise to the heavens

And do not stop.

Look out from your horizon

And see what comes, what goes.

See the blue of the sky,

The mountains, the rich valleys,

The gardens, the wheat fields

That brings forth rich tasting bread.

And tell me what you see,

Yes, tell me what it looks like

With tender words from

The beauty of your soul

That flow forth from your pen.

Do it so that I will understand.

I will perceive your words because...

Your existence is mine.

Héctor Pivaral 1985