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My Name is Daniel


My name is Daniel; it’s been 2 months since our 3rd & 4th children (identical twins) were born. At a few hours of age, they had an infection that left both in an extremely delicate state. One of the babies (Ramiro) passed away after 4 days. Ignacio was on a ventilator at the brink of death for 15 days. Fate desired that Ignacio weathered the storm, and after a month we had him at home and he is in perfect condition.

Now I am going to speak of how I feel toward Ramiro:

I feel more strongly than my wife with the necessity of having Ramiro among us, although not physically. I speak much about him and I want to honor him by life. Why do I feel so strongly? I had Ramiro in my arms as soon as he passed away, I cried and kissed him a lot, and in a moment I felt something incredible; I felt as though he told me, “Papi, make yourself strong and tell the doctors to dry their tears and attend more than ever to Ignacio,” who a couple of meters away was fighting for his life, “and keep stimulating him and give strength to Mami.” That is to say, he transmitted to me an incredible strength. It is difficult to put into words.

Equally, I didn’t take him out of my head, and in some moments I cry for him. At times, crying makes me sad, but it also makes me well. My heart needs it.

I talked about Ramiro to my wife, but we can’t yet exchange thoughts. My wife needs her own times. For this reason, I speak to you about how I feel Ramiro’s death.

How do I want him to live in my visions of the future?

My intention is that no one will forget Ramiro. Just as a person has an identity that makes him unique, so does a family have one. I only seek for whoever views our family to include Ramiro and not be afraid to name him. That when Ignacio grows, he will feel he has a twin brother without that signifying a burden. That Ramiro will be synonymous with joy (because thus was he conceived) and not with sadness. I feel like I am a father of twins, although I will not be able to live many of the sensations that we had imagined with them.

I’d like, when I am no longer in this world, for others to remember me with joy and keep my thoughts and feelings alive. Because of this, I want the same for Ramiro. Ramiro is not here physically, and with that, I lose the possibility of walking with Ignacio and Ramiro together, to see how they come together to play ball, to go together to River Field, to see them grow together, to see them fight, study, etc. etc.; but I don’t want to lose his memory and with that I don’t want to idolatrize him, I simply insist that he is remembered with his just measure, not overemphasizing but neither minimizing; this is what my heart dictates.

I think that Ramiro will or will not be present, depending on how you want to look at it. Physically he will not be, but for me he always is. As I’ve told it, but in another form.

We could have lost both, but Fate left us Ignacio, who loves us profoundly and today is 2 months old and has an incredible history. He is a little love-giving machine. One fine day, a mountain of rocks kilometers and kilometers high was put in our way. When Ignacio was cured, we felt the rocks weren’t there, but there remained a road difficult to travel, yet over it we have to walk, come what may. Ignacio and our other children push us along day by day.

Daniel
Daniel lives in South America. His writing in the original Spanish is in our “En español” section. Thank you to Beth Pector MD for this translation.