The thinker once said: "I'm not afraid to die, I'm sorry." I've never forgotten that. At dawn yesterday a tragedy of unspeakable proportions occurred when the plane crashed carrying the Chapecoense team's crew and journalists. Many believe that some of the pain we experience in seeing such sadness comes from our own selfish fear of death; I think that this pain comes from empathizing with loss. We feel pity, the pity of life that might have been: lives suspended in time, lives that had no time to be.
It is difficult to explain how much the loss of an entire team means to us Brazilians. We grew up having them as heroes, as our representatives and, albeit distant, our relationship is intimate and familiar, soccer is part of our identity as a degree of kinship. Since I lost a great friend, trying to understand life and death has become a priority for me. On my journey to try and understand why bad things happen to good people I have discovered that they do not just happen to good people. Broadening my gaze above my own mourning, I realized that tragedies happen for all people; for the good and the bad, for the young and the old, for the Muslims and for the Christians.
I realized that the more natural death became in my eyes, the greater my effort became to be a better person. Death hurts because it reminds us that we are fallible and that we are not different from other beings; tragedies kill horses and also kill people. The lightning that falls on an old oak also falls on a small bud of ipê. Mario Quintana has a thought that I believe expresses the penalty of loss: "Die, what do I care? The hard thing is to stop living! " We feel pain for the families of those who have ceased to live; those whose lives have been fatally disrupted.
In this past year I have seen life and death close up, life coming in and out of hospitals, often leading some of those who have not yet had a chance to experience a fresh breeze in their faces or a fruit ice cream on a hot summer afternoon. I learned that life exists even when, unfortunately, there is no hope, and our hearts fill with pain not because we are afraid to die, but because we are afraid of losing the life we have, the people we love, and the dreams we want to achieve. I spent this last night thinking about the families of the victims and in those interrupted dreams, I thought that the suffering that makes us so vulnerable is also what makes us more human.
I believe that the best we can do to honor those who have gone is to make them continue despite death, despite the tragic circumstances of life, and despite our own fallible condition. We can honor them by having more compassion for all those who have been deprived of what we have, by respecting the decisions of people without judging them, and by having respect for all those around us.
Let us do good every day in the name of one of the many that are gone: give blood, be kind to others and with ourselves, let's treat our animals better, be present with who we love, greet our neighbors, be encouraging to people. Never underestimate the impact that a small gesture of love can have on someone's life. In life there is no final prize, so do not give up on your dreams, keep running after your goals and live well. Let us honor our heroes with the most precious good we have: a good life and an immense potential to be good. Until death meets us all, may we be peace, even in pain.
Como diria Alice Ruiz: Sou uma moça polida levando uma vida lascada. Brasileira, vinte sete anos e alguns grilos na sacada.