Golden Wedding Weddings
Francisco and Pascuala January 2017
A lifetime for your children
To my parents
Some words
If we had a perfect memory of all the minutes and seconds of our parents' lives we would realize the constant care they have had for us. The whirlwind of life almost does not let us reflect on how important you have been for our lives. Since we began to walk until we left on your side, we have been your mission on earth. Just as it is now up to us, your children, to play the role you once did, and at the same time we realize the sacrifice and self-denial that you went through, and very proud that we are.
And here with you we show you our love and affection, which you have poured out to us. Few marriages celebrate their golden wedding anniversary. Or they do not stand or do not understand. They look for a different situation, forgetting the years of family, of upbringing, which are, in my opinion, the most beautiful in life. I say it by own experience, since the accompaniment and the closeness towards the person that is being made, is something as wonderful as incredible. And it is your example of unity that has made us strong. Thanks to you we have believed in life, and you have set us a model to imitate, manifesting us with your daily life that works.
I thank my father. It is the word that sums up a whole life with you. You have been my guide, teacher, tutor, counselor, father. As a child, you did not have to worry about anything, because Dad was in charge. What a happy childhood, on the floors of the cooperative, bringing collections of albums of complete albums given by the commercials, translating this song in English of the Beatles, in front of my friends, or composing posters by hand announcing an imminent piano concert of His son, or letting me type in his "Ibáñez Martín" office with his two-colored Olivetti. And the harvest evenings in "the apple trees" or of grape in "the Pinosa", the firecrackers and the bonfire in the garage, the frequent visits to the house of the grandparents with the plastic butterflies in the curtain of the office, the tragabolas Or the scale, the closet of the reels of thread and the dolls of the Aunt Emilia, the raisins of the terrae or the old wine of the barrel of the warehouse, the camarica with the refrigerator and the colored envelopes with the bottle of soda of the Grandfather to make us a soda. In the baths of Mula where we all fit in a giant bathtub and you told us that story so exciting that the man had just reached the moon; The carriage drive through vineyard P to Alicante, all crowded in the window at every bend, and Mum saying that if we were not quiet she would take off her slipper. In Santana in the house of Albacete and you, Dad, with the leash in hand giving us in the ass, when half a colony of children we take off our clothes playing clothes, or with water inside the house and we lying down In the beds; Or in the house of the guard playing Indians and cowboys with the ears of the esparto and giving French everyone in the convent. What an illusion when we went to the camping Cartagonova, putting tables as mattresses and using wooden hammers to drive the nails. And then came our first home trip, the camp at Narejos. To remember everything is enough to read your diary, in which day to day you tell us what happens around you, everything from almost before you were born.
I tell my mother, thank you. Throughout his life devoted to the moral and human education of his children. For striving to awaken in them a beautiful and generous future. And a love for his people and for Santana. And that has given example day by day. Especially with the job well done. We woke up every day for more than ten years, all four of us in the same room (because Lina slept in another), we woke up hearing the creaking of the blinds as they rolled up and with the background music "Lord, Beginning of this day, save us today with your power ... "without missing each meal with" the Baby Jesus who was born in Bethlehem ... "and surrendered at night we fell in the arms of Morpheus listening softly" Blessed be your purity. .. ". Undisturbed memories in the library of the convent, restoring the pictures and I entertained between books, brushes and the crocodile. Jumilla walks painting corners of the old town; Wearing the robe of San Juan, and then the robe of the esparteros. The excitement of attending the arrest of the plaza above, the snail of the armors, the zompos of the craft that kept the yaya, the shank cut in the saw, the hole of sawdust, the street "la Labor." Visits to the grandmother to eat fritillas, or mantecas hidden in the camouflage closet of the dining room, or to play on the top floor with the grandfather's accordion or grampa's grandfather. The little children who had to fight, and the fights of the doorman, on the floor of Jumilla with the jumps in the elevator, the box of milk dragged all over the lobby, the water balloons from the terrace, the pigeons in the room.
How quickly everything has happened. Then we left home. It had to be this way. But you are here with us. We continue to learn from you, from your union. Dad with his "are you okay? Do not worry about anything". Mom with her "you want, children, you want between you".
And it is enough to mark the way, to know what is right, to know what needs to be done. Golden wedding is like that stop on the road and look back. Like when you go up the mountain and look where you started. A point in the distance. And we say to you: what we have walked together! And we contemplate the beautiful landscape of your life. And ... to go ahead, as far as God wants. Now we set small goals, because the road already gets a little heavy. Short days, to recover and return to the task. The daily life that you sanctify each day and that marks us as a sure path of happiness.
Francis.
A lifetime for your children
To my parents
Some words
If we had a perfect memory of all the minutes and seconds of our parents' lives we would realize the constant care they have had for us. The whirlwind of life almost does not let us reflect on how important you have been for our lives. Since we began to walk until we left on your side, we have been your mission on earth. Just as it is now up to us, your children, to play the role you once did, and at the same time we realize the sacrifice and self-denial that you went through, and very proud that we are.
And here with you we show you our love and affection, which you have poured out to us. Few marriages celebrate their golden wedding anniversary. Or they do not stand or do not understand. They look for a different situation, forgetting the years of family, of upbringing, which are, in my opinion, the most beautiful in life. I say it by own experience, since the accompaniment and the closeness towards the person that is being made, is something as wonderful as incredible. And it is your example of unity that has made us strong. Thanks to you we have believed in life, and you have set us a model to imitate, manifesting us with your daily life that works.
I thank my father. It is the word that sums up a whole life with you. You have been my guide, teacher, tutor, counselor, father. As a child, you did not have to worry about anything, because Dad was in charge. What a happy childhood, on the floors of the cooperative, bringing collections of albums of complete albums given by the commercials, translating this song in English of the Beatles, in front of my friends, or composing posters by hand announcing an imminent piano concert of His son, or letting me type in his "Ibáñez Martín" office with his two-colored Olivetti. And the harvest evenings in "the apple trees" or of grape in "the Pinosa", the firecrackers and the bonfire in the garage, the frequent visits to the house of the grandparents with the plastic butterflies in the curtain of the office, the tragabolas Or the scale, the closet of the reels of thread and the dolls of the Aunt Emilia, the raisins of the terrae or the old wine of the barrel of the warehouse, the camarica with the refrigerator and the colored envelopes with the bottle of soda of the Grandfather to make us a soda. In the baths of Mula where we all fit in a giant bathtub and you told us that story so exciting that the man had just reached the moon; The carriage drive through vineyard P to Alicante, all crowded in the window at every bend, and Mum saying that if we were not quiet she would take off her slipper. In Santana in the house of Albacete and you, Dad, with the leash in hand giving us in the ass, when half a colony of children we take off our clothes playing clothes, or with water inside the house and we lying down In the beds; Or in the house of the guard playing Indians and cowboys with the ears of the esparto and giving French everyone in the convent. What an illusion when we went to the camping Cartagonova, putting tables as mattresses and using wooden hammers to drive the nails. And then came our first home trip, the camp at Narejos. To remember everything is enough to read your diary, in which day to day you tell us what happens around you, everything from almost before you were born.
I tell my mother, thank you. Throughout his life devoted to the moral and human education of his children. For striving to awaken in them a beautiful and generous future. And a love for his people and for Santana. And that has given example day by day. Especially with the job well done. We woke up every day for more than ten years, all four of us in the same room (because Lina slept in another), we woke up hearing the creaking of the blinds as they rolled up and with the background music "Lord, Beginning of this day, save us today with your power ... "without missing each meal with" the Baby Jesus who was born in Bethlehem ... "and surrendered at night we fell in the arms of Morpheus listening softly" Blessed be your purity. .. ". Undisturbed memories in the library of the convent, restoring the pictures and I entertained between books, brushes and the crocodile. Jumilla walks painting corners of the old town; Wearing the robe of San Juan, and then the robe of the esparteros. The excitement of attending the arrest of the plaza above, the snail of the armors, the zompos of the craft that kept the yaya, the shank cut in the saw, the hole of sawdust, the street "la Labor." Visits to the grandmother to eat fritillas, or mantecas hidden in the camouflage closet of the dining room, or to play on the top floor with the grandfather's accordion or grampa's grandfather. The little children who had to fight, and the fights of the doorman, on the floor of Jumilla with the jumps in the elevator, the box of milk dragged all over the lobby, the water balloons from the terrace, the pigeons in the room.
How quickly everything has happened. Then we left home. It had to be this way. But you are here with us. We continue to learn from you, from your union. Dad with his "are you okay? Do not worry about anything". Mom with her "you want, children, you want between you".
And it is enough to mark the way, to know what is right, to know what needs to be done. Golden wedding is like that stop on the road and look back. Like when you go up the mountain and look where you started. A point in the distance. And we say to you: what we have walked together! And we contemplate the beautiful landscape of your life. And ... to go ahead, as far as God wants. Now we set small goals, because the road already gets a little heavy. Short days, to recover and return to the task. The daily life that you sanctify each day and that marks us as a sure path of happiness.
Francis.
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