Your Words Will Always Be

“It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.” ~ Gabriel García Márquez

Death can’t take
the tales you gave me.
Your words will
always be
part of the girl I once was,
of the crone I’ll be.

.
a
(not so) wee note…
Gabriel García Márquez was the first writer who made me admire the magic that can be conjured out of words. His novels, essays and short stories inspired me to ask difficult questions about people, about society and about myself. Decades later, I am still asking… and learning. If he hadn’t walked through The Veil in 2014, he would’ve turned 90-years-young today. I suspect he is still enjoying himself, telling stories to angels and demons… And if dying didn’t change him, he is probably terribly pissed off because Death kept him from living during this time of socio-political chaos. It’s not that Gabo loved trouble, just that his muse was so good at turning turmoil into magical realist art that made most people think.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Every time I look at this candle (thank you, Rommy!), I grin… and wonder if Gabo is also grinning at the sight of himself as “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”.
Happy Birthday, mi querido Gabo.

Saint Gabriel García Márquez, the Smirker

My phone was bursting with the sound of Rommy’s uncontrollable laughter. There was joy (and a touch of Latina mischievousness) in her mirth.

“Speak now, or forever hold your pieces,” I said. This usually entices her to start singing my name in a mixture of terrible opera and exaggerated Spanish accent (yes, we have issues). But on this occasion, it had no effect. She just giggled… and snorted. “What is it, woman?”

“Candles!” she said. “I found a shop that sells candles of sainted writers. Oh my gods, Magaly, wait until you see Saint Gabriel. They don’t have Terry Pratchett, but Neil Gaiman and J.K. Rowling have also been sanctified. I’m getting Gaiman and Rowling. I have to.”

She sent me the link to Saint Gabriel’s candle, and the moment I saw his smirking haloed face, I roared until I nearly choked. I mean, look at that expression!
Gabriel Garcia Marquez Candle (1)
If you’ve read Love in the Time of Cholera, “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”, One Hundred Years of Solitude… or pretty much any of García Márquez’s tales, you probably already know that his dance with religion—particularly South American Catholicism—was always bedecked with layers upon layers of satire and humor.

“I think he would have found the idea of himself as a saint completely hysterical,” I said to Rommy. “I’m getting him.”

In the end, we decided to make things extra special: I got Saint Rowling and Saint Gaiman for Rommy, and she got Saint Gabriel for me.

I’ve placed my smirking sainted writer candle next to my little brother’s ashes. Something tells me that both, my little brother and Gabriel García Márquez, would find the whole thing amusing… And nothing is holier or nobler than good old jollity that makes the belly rumble.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez Candle (2)
After the thought of this post first kissed my mind, I spent some time wondering if anyone would find the idea of a sainted writer candle offensive; and if so, why might they feel that way? What do you think, my Wicked Luvs? Speculate away… and don’t forget to wave at Saint Gabriel García Márquez, the Smirker.
Gabriel Garcia Marquez Candle (3)