I always remember that it was on Holy Thursday that my soul returned to my body, exactly three years ago... That year, Holy Week fell on April 2, exactly two months after Dad had passed away, and although life still feels very strange and we’re still figuring out what it’s like to live without our most important pillar at home, at that moment we were completely disoriented, sad, and yes, maybe even a little angry with God...
After a few words from friends and family during those first few days, life went on, and everything remained the same as always; today I once again find beauty, life, and hope in every corner, but during those two months, everything was gray and very bleak. Life had dealt us a heavy blow for months, and after such a terrible tragedy, you have to return to your daily routine. But just two months later, we were fortunate enough to experience Holy Week, which meant a week away from work and the chance to spend time with family—time we truly needed.
When a father, mother, or grandparent dies, even the house feels different—big and empty—especially in small families like ours, where there are still four of us today thanks to my wife’s arrival, but at that time I felt that the four of us were helpless, even though my brother and I, as men, did our best to hold together what seemed unsustainable.
One of the things that has weighed on me the most since Dad passed away is the fact that I live in another city without my mom. Maybe it’s not that far—we’re only an hour and a half apart—but I’m the kind of guy who can’t just leave work and visit his mom for a little while in the afternoon. The kind of musician who doesn’t have his mom among the mothers in the audience, because in the end that distance does make a difference, but at the same time I’ve been turning that weakness into a strength over time—not just because I have the best job I could ever have, but because that job and this city have really helped me improve my life and cope with my grief.
Those first two months of working with the choir flew by; in fact, a month after what happened with Dad, I caught COVID-19 again—not as severe, but bad enough to make me miss a concert in my own city (something that rarely happens)—and also to force me to spend a couple of weeks without visiting my mom, who was already feeling pretty down from the grief. After all, once we let our guard down after Dad’s illness, we were the ones who started getting sick, but we made it through, and my best idea for Holy Week was to bring my mom to the capital, and we’re sure that from that moment on, everything changed.
We did something we’d never done before—not even my mom, who was already over 60—and that was the “Seven Churches” pilgrimage on Holy Thursday. It’s a journey of praise and prayer through several churches, something that’s very easy to do here in Caracas, since no matter where you look, you’ll find a Catholic church… At least here in downtown...
Although my brother isn't in these photos, it was the first time we smiled naturally for a picture again. Genuine smiles from broken people who were coming to terms with a new reality and wanted to do their best for one another—one of the most heartfelt moments of our lives.
Holy Thursday is a special day during Holy Week, a day that symbolizes love and humility, and is marked by the priest washing the feet of the parishioners. The Blessed Sacrament is also left on display, and each church and parish group creates a massive, beautiful, and unique altar, making the pilgrimage to the seven churches even more special for those who follow this tradition. This tradition takes place on the evening of this day, and some continue it on Good Friday morning, before the altar is removed in preparation for the commemoration of Christ’s death.
Today we’re together again on Holy Thursday—the same three of us who appear in these photos. Our outlook has changed since then, even though each of us is at a different stage in our personal journey.
Yes, we’ve come to understand that life goes on and that we have to stay sane to be able to live it, because otherwise it consumes us. I remember that just a year later, my wife also lost her father, under circumstances similar to my father’s death, but within a very short period of time. For Catholics who truly practice our faith, Holy Week is a week like any other, just with more activities, but I can’t deny that the presence of so many people and everyone’s efforts at church make it feel more special, and there’s a special vibe in the air that makes us feel like the world can be a better place.
I just want to focus on this last point... Regardless of whether I’ve decided to remain Catholic, of what I practice here, of what I reject, and of what I’ve encountered beyond Catholicism, the only thing that matters to me is that love reaches everyone—a difficult task, but one I’d like to believe isn’t impossible. People are both good and bad at the same time, although some really seem to be evil from birth, but in reality, no one knows the cross that other people have to bear.
We have to focus on ourselves and on what we already know. Learning should make us better people, so let’s put into practice everything we already know—everything that does good for ourselves and our neighbors. If you already know what’s right but keep hurting others, then you’re stuck as a human being. Life is about evolution and wisdom; everyone in their own time, but the goal is the same, even if not everyone knows its meaning 🙏
