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| Picture source: bhnostalgia.blogspot.com.br |
“Would you know my name
If I saw you in heaven?
Would it be the same
If I saw you in heaven?”
Eric Clapton
1947, an old photo with
aerial view of Belo Horizonte. Winter morning, trucks arriving to supply the
Central Market, and many parked carts waiting for customers. A few cars on the
street, the town is quiet. Some passers-by cross Amazonas Avenue in a hurry.
The beautiful rosette of the city, the Plaza Raul Soares, stands out on the
landscape without skyscrapers, the mountains in the background.
Suddenly, I entered in a
tunnel of time, when I saw this picture my brother sent me by e-mail, showing a
bit of the first house where our parents lived, where they began married life. We
were not born yet, but it's as if we were present at that time. There she was,
our mother, down there, that little white spot on the balcony, looking at us,
high up in a building, or inside an aircraft mysteriously overflying the city. She
did not know it, not even the photographer could imagine that we were there,
seeing her through that point of view, through time. A 1942 Hudson, parked near
the front door, showed that our father was also there.
Who seeks shall find.
So it happened for my brother. So much he looked for a photograph showing that
house, in those old times, that he found. And that finding was even more
fascinating as it happened two days after we talked about what and how life
could be after death. I have my beliefs, in my way, already somewhat carved,
and I wondered if the individuals would keep some remnant of what they were at
this stage. Would our departed loved ones, for example, still have some trace of
their affinities with us in this dimension?
Could they keep some archaic
memory of the affections they had for us, compatible with the energy, or
whatever the material of which their “body and soul” is made? Would they be
aware of the genetic connections that linked us? Or
they are so metamorphosed into the infinite grandeur of love and understanding
beyond our borders that we, still in this valley of tears, are like dust almost
invisible to them?
These are questions for
which all of us wish to have answers, even the most skeptical, I think. We have
an intuition that urges us to believe in the continuity of each one, whatever
the model of civilization we live in, whatever influence we may have received,
despite all the opposing ideologies or theories we try to impose on ourselves.
Is it part of our intellectual primitivism? I don't know. As a feeling, it is
surely part of the mourning phase.
That photo seemed a response
from the beyond, a maternal gaze through time - time, this mysterious element that
limits us so much. A remote image came touching our emotions, because
communication with our tiny intelligence would be impossible. A contact established
from a distant past, as we are always ancient passengers of a "spaceship" that
flies to an unknown future.
I was taken by an
indescribably good feeling. I had the impression that this infinite love that
interweaves everyone, that redeems us from our aimless steps, so misguided, it must
be able to recognize identities and affinities. If there is greatness and understanding
of everything, there must be magnanimity for the recognition and sharing of our
affective bonds, even if free of ties.
Anyway, I am immensely
grateful to the Christian formation I received from my parents. Everything in
the world, today, is leading me to reinforce this idea. This education that
instilled in my mind the hope, and made me learn that I have to fight against
my mistakes, my miseries, my pains, with the faith that we will be out of our
own picture… through Him, with Him, in Him.
“E la nave va...”
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