My grandfather Joseph, contrary to the version that always told my grandmother had died suddenly in the street. He committed suicide.
The end of the Civil War left its name on the blacklist and terror filled her suspicions. Abandoned his wife and crossed the French border. The terrible years of the war, in which police were Republican, and that period of exile under the constant fear of being found and shot shook him enough to make him lose his sanity. Who would not.
later got a job on the recommendation of my great-grandfather in the Fabrica Nacional de Moneda y Timbre. But Joseph was not the young idealist who in the early 30's it appeared to his wife sometimes barefoot because their shoes had given someone poorer than himself and others with a gap in the head after participating in a demonstration. It was instead a disturbed and lonely man, who had betrayed the fact that neither the existence of a daughter just three months of treatment allowed to escape, unknowingly, had signed with death just a decade earlier. Fifty
years later, I saw first saw this picture and could not avoid the chill first and after acknowledging responsibility in the face of that sweet man, idealistic, kind and compassionate that I have in me.
Jose, Grandpa, I love you.
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