Today is the 7th of November… again. I was reminded by my mother of it. We were on a taxi and she said “Today is the 7th”. We looked at each other eyes and we remained silent the rest of the way. The message was clear; I understood what “7th of November” meant. Eight years have passed since that direful 7th of November. So to understand the whole story, let me take you to my childhood; back when there was a happy, small and naïve Pablo sprinting down an infinite backyard next to his school in his old town Garín (Buenos Aires). Ever since I can remember, my family befriended many families from my school; and therefore, I began to have lots and lots of friends who didn’t go to my classroom but were from the school. I went to a catholic school and even though I am not much of a Christian, my family, alongside 6 other families, formed a small delightful “prayer” group. Every now and then, we would get together in one of our houses to pray the rosary. There were approximately 16 children from those 6 families, all of different ages. Cons? Not one of them was happy to be forced to pray. Pros? It lasted approximately one hour only, if not less, and after that we would get together and eat something altogether. Add the fact that we got together at around 4 o’clock and we would go back home around 12 o’clock (sometimes later) and you have around 6 hours of fun with 15 other children that you’d gladly call friends.
The infinite backyard comes into the story because it belonged to one of those families. There was an “eternal” forest, filled with trees where we would run all afternoon until we got tired. I remember (bitter sweetly) one time in which one humongous nest of bees fell on me. Imagine my face running from a swarm of infuriated bees. The memory of that event still stings me to this day, hahaha. Back to the story, the Hassan lived there (Hassan was their surname, they had no relation whatsoever with the “The Kite Runner” character). It was the biggest of all families, at the time there were Tony (Antonio) and Roxy (Roxana) with four children (Little Marcos wasn’t still in the picture), Pancho, my mother’s godson, Nico (my brother’s eternal enemy), Lucía (the shiest girl you could have met) and Pablo Ezequiel Hassan, my best friend and namesake. He would always tell my parents that they were “sooooo original” because I was two years younger than him and, therefore, my name was HIS. We would always laugh at that. In 2005, if I’m not mistaken, Roxy found out she was pregnant with Marcos, and the family decided to move to Santa Cruz. The news made most of the adults really happy, but I was devastated. My best friend was leaving town, not to come back ever again. I knew it was the best thing for them, but I couldn’t hide the fact that I was heartbroken.
Slowly, things returned to their normal state. By then, I was a conflicted teenager, you couldn’t say whether I was happy, angry or sad, as most of teenagers are. A few years later, I began dating my first girlfriend, and my mind was set on other things, rather than remembering them. That is what I regret doing the most. Forgetting about them. In 2007, one of the most exciting pieces of news came to me via text message. The Hassan were coming over to spend Christmas with us. I was overjoyed by the fact that we were going to be all together again. They came and things were awkward, Pablo was a very mature teenager, but his situation there shaped him into the most excellent man, responsible and down to earth. We were all changed, but I remember him as the one that changed the most. Nevertheless, we had the best Christmas I can think of. They stayed at my place and we were 4 boys (my brother, Nico, Pablo and myself) in one bedroom and Lucía in another. Pancho and Marcos (who I was meeting for the first time) were staying with their parents, they were still very young. Imagine the mess that was my bedroom. 4 male teenagers playing video games and chatting all night long. We never ran out of energy during that week. It was, sincerely, the best time of my life. Saying goodbye to them wasn’t that difficult this time. Either they would come back the next year or my family would travel there. We would see each other again pretty soon. The last days of October of 2008, we’ve received a call from Santa Cruz. They were coming again that year. We were ecstatic again. Then the tragedy struck.
It was 6 o’clock the morning of the 7th of November. It was a Friday; we were finishing the week. My alarm clock rang and I turned it off and started to get dressed. I heard my mother crying in the other room, and when I went she was sitting down on her bed and I asked what had happened. She said the words I wasn’t expecting to listen. I wasn’t prepared. “The Hassan are dead. All of them”. There was a big fire due to a malfunction in the oven, the reports had said. The fire engulfed the cosy home of that family. Tony, the father, was the only survivor, and he was in a coma for almost a month. He jumped from the first floor and ended up heavily wounded in a hospital. No one could save the rest of them. Roxana was 37. Pablo was 17 years old. Lucía was 15. Nico was 13. Pancho was 4 and Marcos was just about to be 1-year-old. I didn’t want to stay at home that day. I went to school, seeking comfort on my friends’ words. Up to this day, I haven’t shed a tear because of them. I don’t know why… I should, but I never could.
I know that this entry is a little bit longer than usual, but I wanted to talk about them. They were a big part of my life. All of them. Although I kind of know that they are “in a better place”, I still don’t get how the God we had been praying to for years didn’t save them. It was unfair. They had their whole lives ahead of them. Tony lost his entire family; his wife and 5 children were gone in just seconds. It hurts a lot. It still does, but I know that they are okay. They weren’t supposed to undergo the cruelties of this world we live in. I know that wherever they are now, they are looking after Tony and giving him the strength he needs to go on. I am not sad anymore; I’m okay. They were the best family I met. They ARE the best family I will ever meet. Even they are not here anymore, they will always be with us in our hearts and someday we will all meet again and run around the infinite forest again. There will never be another 7th of November again.
