- It was the dark, wet afternoon last November, rainy. Day 16. In Zaldibia Square. “Three Old Dancing” says the old song. But no. The heart danced under the umbrella. Invisible above, it hides great power. In the view of the bottom, with eyes full of tears, there lived a village, wept with pain. - Goodbye, Pepku! ".
We weren't all there.
"I have no capacity to go," he said sadly to the Benta de Zugazti, my friends, since his priestly retirement at the Seminary, I will do "those here," you will do "those there." At the same time, a Mass was celebrated. Thinking about Josetxo.
Later, in the back of his room, far from the sight of the Pharisees of Delatores, in his interior, “under the umbrella”, he transmits these exciting presentiments to Josetxo. It is worth reading the confession of an intimate friend who goes down the same road and who, "no better, no worse", goes down a different road, spends half a century abroad and is at the same crossroads, at the dusk of his life:
Josetxo! I met you with this name, I know you with this name, I always know you with this name: Josetxo! There is no change for me. You'll always be Josetxo.
You child, I young, you young, I a little older, but your memory is always the same: a nice memory.
You were innocent, friendly. I remember you, like Txistulari, on some exits from the mountain, in the memory of your first steps towards the priesthood, on the road you accompanied me from the church to the hamlet, then to return home alone or with your friends. You were a close man, good.
We were gradually maturing. I followed the same path, you chose a new path, neither better nor worse, that you thought was best for you. Difficult, complicated times came, and you followed a difficult path, there you look for the way to serve your people and there you make your offer. You did not go back, you went forward.
The problems and knots of life separated us, the relationship between them remained as if it had been broken. But, I assure you, your memory has always remained in me and has been pleasant to me.
So a year ago, between Iñaxio de Okobio, I was lucky enough to meet again and make a little meal. It was a beautiful day for me, the day I met an old friend, many memories and experiences passed through my heart.
One thing made me think: I found you aged, older than I should. It was certainly the result of your hard life, the opportunity you made in one day and your offer. It wasn't easy.
Now, knowing that you've died, I've felt great pain, but I've also awakened in me great hope. Your life has been full, an offer, and this brings its fruits, both for the present and for the future. From my belief, this life has not been lost, but it has become a full life.
Goodbye, Josetxo! They will soon meet together in another round table. I speak to him about my faith and my hope.
It rains. In Zaldibia Square, each under its “umbrella”, the heart continues to dance the aurresku. Josetxo plays the txistu. But I couldn't verla.Ha close the umbrella in full sun.
