Breathe
By Claudia Pérez Atamoros
All is said and done
Art is long, life is short.
Rest in peace Cristina Pacheco.
61 years in journalism. She was forged in the street. She wore out soles like no other reporter. She weaved stories, spun anecdotes, embroidered an eternal love. She wove stories, spun anecdotes, embroidered an eternal love, raised and educated two daughters. She sewed her heart to the people. She drew and described it with surgical precision. She was a chronicler, interviewer, writer, mother, wife, example and teacher, without wanting to...
He inspired respect and admiration. Gratitude and humility bordered his life, full and complete. And he left us a mosaic of emotions and teachings captured in his books, his chronicles and his programs. His work was multicolored, multifaceted and deeply rooted in the people.
At Family began. It became The Light of Mexico.
To To look into the distance did not live. He did Journalism. Oficios de México embodied.
He wrote Sopita de Fideo, The last night of the tiger and saw The gold of the desert, With smoke in your eyes.
Cried in a rooftop room at the sight of the Disaster Zone from The masters of the night and so many Confrontations.
To understand the real Mexico, he climbed up to The wheel of fortune y At the bottom of the letter he visited Of loves and heartbreaks.
Dio Testimonials and conversations in a Sea of stories made in The heart of the night.
To live here she had to write Clean of all love The lost works making a Long journey to the land of memory.
It was The Eternal Traveler and El creador in front of the audience, an audience that always enjoyed The cricket's song and La chistera maravillosa that Ponciano Eucalyptus and his Two little friends sang for their advertisement: Donkey for sale
While The sleep of the ants was interrupted by The wooden bird who kept repeating: no way This is where we have to live!
"The imminence of her death worried her only insofar as it could affect us or free us: "Do not despair, I will not give you much trouble" she would say when she saw us suffering for her.
"Feeling at the gates of a longed-for end, she added: "I already wish I were dead, but how can I do it if my heart won't stop beating?"
(La última noche del tigre, story Madre, fragment).
And today it was Cristina Pacheco's turn to die. Her heart stopped beating earthly to begin its new beat with her partner of 53 years, José Emilio Pacheco. As she herself said that dark day in 2014: "We had plans for two thousand years from now, we planned to live our whole lives and that also meant dying together".
But they died at the wrong time and today, almost a decade later, she left to embrace him. She no longer has to keep trying to understand "life without him". Without her knight in armor, the one she met at the university. In Difusión Cultural, as Humberto Batis narrates to Mariana Simón Chavero for his undergraduate thesis, where he also tells an incredible anecdote between José Emilio and Cristina Romo:
"On one occasion we locked them in the 10th floor of the Rectory Tower and told José Emilio "you don't go out until you have made love to her". He was scared to death and very sorry to Cristina, he said to her: "Miss, what a shame". Cristina told me later that she made a deal with José Emilio, so that he would not worry because he was very nervous.
"Jose Emilio was telling me "I have to marry this girl who was disgraced in this place because of you bastards. I have to marry this girl to repair the damage." And they got married. I told him "you don't have to get married".
Journalism is in mourning. Art is long, life is short.
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