No one goes away without leaving some impression, and the closest ones inherit part of his liberated soul and become richer in their humanity.
In each friend we lose, we lose a part of ourselves: the best part.
Every person that departs takes with him his first spring, his first kiss and his first struggle. When he is gone, several worlds go with him.
Life doesn’t stop being fun when someone departs, in the same way that it doesn’t stop being serious when people laugh.
Every day is a small life, each awakening and getting up a small birth, each morning a small youth and each rest and falling asleep a small death.
It is not pleasant to be abandoned. And, nonetheless, we are abandoned one way or another all through life. Once the perplexity is over, the only thing left to do is to reinvent the world.
Fernando Mercadante, the Old Sailor, is no longer amongst us, smiling with experience from the corner of the counter, as if to reaffirm to us that everything was all right, that the evening was going to be pleasant and that life is worth living.
The bar became sad without him. For a moment it became just like any other bar; but, despite that, as he himself said, stubbornly happy.
We will miss him very much.
Lehaim.
