This is a letter brought to the US by the mother of the author, as the Mexican Caravan for Peace and Dignity passed through NY a few days ago. The recipient met and talked with several of the people in the caravan, most of them have at least one loved one who has been killed, caught in the middle of the war between the government and the drug cartels in Mexico.
“Writing on a sheet of paper how great a person is, is terribly complicated, and more so when that person is no longer with us. The traits you once considered defects are now a part of a complex perfection. While alive, my brother always searched for what I thought impossible: perfection, utopia. He possessed neither money nor great influence. He was simple, noble, honest, and travelled light. Even today I cannot comprehend his way of being, yet I know that his life is for me precisely that teaching: learning how to live.
Fitting in any social ambit was easy for Guillermo, his jokes were his characteristic, and his vibe was true. Because I am 9 years younger than him I don’t remember him as a child. As a youth he used to pick me up after school, his friends always looked for him and he never run out of ideas. He was creative in fine and graphic arts, and even in the kitchen, I can remember the eccentric foods he cooked for me as a child.
My brother was born in Mexico City but my mom, who is always thinking about the best for her children, decided we would have a better life in Metepec, State of Mexico. When the time came my brother also decided that for his own good he also deserved a change. He started a family and bought a house in Villas El Nevado. He was clearly hopeful. The housing project was just starting and he wanted to do many things there to live better. He dreamed of setting up a school for the local kids and stores, so the neighbors could have their own small shops. He dreamed of green areas and games for the families to play. He also thought about services such as gas, water and communications, but, above all he thought about safety. This is how he decided to put a gate at the entrance of the community in order to better control its comings and goings. Sadly, for many this was a waste and without any dialogue or negotiations, they destroyed the structure for which my brother had fought. He did not become sad or angry and said that there were other ways to create a safe community. My brother trusted people above all.
People always kept showing up at his door. They would look for him for help with money or words of advice. During holidays and anniversaries he always thought of how to celebrate, organizing the Day of the Cry for Independence , or the Festival on Mother’s Day. He was invited everywhere.
My brother Guillermo always believed in the ideal of living in harmony. Though I still see him in a Utopia, he never became discouraged and kept fighting. His achievements did not have national transcendence like those of Mexico’s heroes. Perhaps his deeds will not be written about in books, but I am certain of one thing: he gave his life for them. Nothing could make my family and I feel better than knowing that his life in this world was as worthy as possible. He left a great teaching for many and for his family an indescribable sense of absence. For his name’s worth, acknowledgement is the only thing that can be given. I know that when we utter his name, he in Heaven can hear us. Acknowledging his effort will be a part of the justice that should reign among Mexiquenses . This way, my family and especially my parents, would feel a bit of my brother’s presence and joy in their loneliness.”
