El exílio

Last week, prior to any news about any deaths, I was speaking to my father about Cuba. We were discussing the trip my sister and I are hoping to make there. Both of us were born “en el exílio” and both desire to meet our “homeland.” My dad was upset about us “giving our dollars” to the communists. My mother’s sister is one of those communists. She chose to stay in Cuba when her whole family and parents chose to leave. We’ve never met. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like to her, though I can try to.
 
I told my dad how I want to go to the land where my parents and brothers and sister were born. I want to go to the country where I always say I’m from but have never set foot, albeit growing up just 90 miles away. I want to go to the land where all my childhood stories are from. The farms, the ocean, the voices.
 
My dad’s naturally protective. "Mafiósos," he calls them. Led by Fidel, they rape the land and the people, including us. I don’t know if I will give them my dollars. I’m not sure. They will surely have my tears, which are flowing an endless river.
 
“Yo no entiendo cómo alguién tan inteligénte…” would stay in Cuba – referring to my aunt and her family. How intelligent people would believe and choose to stay. At the time of the revolution, my father felt the choice was the only one to be made, because the disgrace was so blatant.  
 
But I do relate “how someone so intelligent” could choose to sacrifice themselves and their family for a cause. I did that. At 28, after seeking a spiritual path for nine years, I met teachers. I bought their hopes and their lies. And when I left at 43, after having forfeited my own journey, my own children, my own desires, for theirs, I was blindsided by the consequences. Maybe my aunt has been too.
 
Though my life is blossoming now with beauty and grace, no one can replace the years I gave up and the experiences I forfeited. The leaders of that group I was part of – they lied. I lied too. To myself and others. Difference is, they continue to.
 
Time will tell. Time will heal. Time will spell it out, for all of us.