I don't know if the “Planet Earth” column is the most appropriate place – it seems that way to me – to write this article about my son Moncho Tamames Prieto-Castro. He died on March 12, due to an extremely voracious cancer (mesothelioma), at 55 years of age.
They say that a father saying goodbye to a son who is embarking on his final journey is the greatest tragedy. And I am in that trance, with the memory of so many other parents who in these times suffer the blow of wars here and there, and who bury their children forever.
Moncho was a son, as they all are to their parents: very special. He had his moments of excitement sensing the greatness of life. As he also had times of difficulties; with a personal effort that left the mark of the passing of the years.
Doctor in Information Sciences from the UCM, psychologist from the UNED, and music enthusiast, I am not going to make his eulogy here under the first impression after his departure. When we hoped to continue living with him in my fourth age, when everything is permeated by the bittersweet taste of life.
I remember my son when he was 14 or 15 years old, and he returned home from a long stay in the United States. The day of his arrival at the Madrid airport, I dreamed of for many weeks before, to finally become the happiest day of my life. life. I want to preserve that image of that reunion, when his sisters Alicia and Laura, his mother, Carmen, and I were waiting for him.
Thank you friends of “Planeta Tierra” of La Razón for hosting this farewell, with the goodbye words of our most beautiful poem:
And although his life was lost, his memory left us much comfort.