Yes indeed, I was going from one quarter century reunion to yet another...this one in fact, was almost 2 years older than the my Norwegian connections.
I was just entering my Freshman year in HS when Diego, a Senior, would be arriving, back in the Fall of 1983. He was an extremely handsome Spaniard who, from what I gathered back in the day, came from a very important and prominent family in Barcelona. In fact, his father did business with the King and the sweater he would wear for his Senior picture was a gift from the King himself.
Diego, my brother Will, foster sister Wanda and me in 1983 in the house and room where my Mother passed on in September. Diego is wearing the sweater gifted from the King of Spain
So here we were at the moment we were to meet almost 27 years later. A few years ago he had written my parents a letter expressing his gratitude for those days and apologized for all his disruptive behavior. Unfortunately my Dad had just passed the year prior but my Mom was who he had a special relationship so the letter served well. I wrote an email on behalf of my Mom since she never did catch onto the Internet and from that point on we had been in touch every 3 or 4 months. In fact just one week prior to my Mom's passing when I shared with Diego my Moms terminal condition, he sent his prayers and regards once again. My Mom's response was that I be sure to tell Diego again how grateful she was for the letter he sent. I did so, and it would be her last message to him. She died 3 days later. I am so glad he had that opportunity to reach out in time to express his hearts desire.
Readiness is a state of mind. Life is too short to wait for moments like this. And though this trip has been in some ways difficult to face and meet, I prepared myself to be ready to face whatever I would be dealt. I could have hid from it all, but I didn't. To be in it--to stand in the pain and joy of life as it has been represented through newness and reunion has been a gift because it has been through experiencing the pain, a journey I was meant to take, where joy has emerged and softened the heartache.
So here again I sat in yet another airport. I see a Spaniard man in his 40's and with a half confident yelp, I let it out, "Diego?" He kept walking away from me. "Diego!" Still not sure I yell a bit louder at this man who was continuing to walk away from me, "DIEGO!!!" He continued to walk on, passing another man standing and facing the opposite direction. My eyes squinted to follow this guy for a few more steps when suddenly, the man who he just passed, pivoted on his heels and turned towards my fading shouts. My eyes shifted towards this man who slowly turned towards me with softly bent knees.
My eyes dialed in on him as he squinted harder at me. A smile grew on my face, "Oh...Diego?!" I said with a full-on grown smile..."it's YOU! with a little less hair... but it's YOU?!" I said with raised eyebrows and snickering smile. He was always a jokster so I figured he could handle the jest, but he replied, "Oh come on now..." We hugged and from that moment on it was like we didn't skip a beat from the 27 years that once stood between us.
I spent a week in Spain with Diego. We caught each other on life and realized we had a lot more in common than either of us could imagine. Both of us consider ourselves spiritual. We both are grateful for our Catholic roots but are appreciators of all the worlds religions. We both enjoy clowning for youth and the disenfranchised, and we both believe we were the odd child out in our perspective families--beating to a different drum. But in this moment, our beat is in rhythm--in sync with one another. Having each other to mirror off the other, we could see the beauty in our reflection.
In Spain however, the family dynamics are very different than mine were back in the states. Diego visits his parents often--both in their 70's. In fact they have a weekly lunch at his parents where his older sister and younger brother join as well. And the conversation at the table is civil and respectful of differences. It was a bitter-sweet moment.
His parents live in the same mansion they did when Diego was a teenager. Over 2500 square feet of Italian marble, the rest in hard wood, innumerable expensive and famous paintings and art work, elevators, servants, guards at the gate etc. But what was cool about his parents was that they were so kind and welcoming. I didn't even have to take my shoes off. I sauntered around the massive living room as if it was an art gallery--and in a sense it is. Diego's Mother travels around the world curating paintings. Over the years she has collected 100's of pieces. Diego's father still works at the famous bank and still does business with the King. Gifts from the King are dribbled throughout this massive home fully equipped with antique decor.
Diego however, lives in a small modest apartment which looked a lot like an office when I arrived. By the time I left however, our skill-set enmeshed, and together we created an inviting home.
I walked around Barcelona for 3 days and nights sometimes with Diego other times by myself. I loved the city, the beaches and parks. One day I brought my computer, went to this huge park and wrote an email to a friend sitting under a huge tree, sipping on Catalina wine and listened to the cacophony of sounds that surrounded me; the birds, water fountain, drumming, guitars, the Spanish tongue in conversation, the slap of a soccer ball being passed around like a hacky-sack, pouncing on the ground, chest, foot and head. It was all music to my ears.
The second half of my week I went with Diego's to his parents condos (3 of them) in Calella on the coast of the Mediterranean. AMAZING. Diego would invite two others and we had the time of our lives boating around in the Mediterranean and hiking on cliff trails. Again, the upper condo where Diego's parents stay (2 spacious condos made into one) was littered with tasteful art and decor. The view was spectacular. In photos of Calella in fact, you can see these condos in every postcard showing off the coast-line. So interesting to step into the life of the rich for a week. But unless you knew Diego's last name, you would never know he came from this lineage of wealth and opulence.
The time went fast but soon enough a week passed and it was time to leave warm and sunny Barcelona where for the first time in two and half months I could wear shorts for 3 consecutive days. Both because it was warm and the culture allowed for it. In fact I found it interesting the spectrum of culture I had observed over the time I have been away. I have went from seeing women in full burkas in Turkey to observing full breast exposure on the beaches of Spain!
What a trip... lo que es un viaje! (Spanish)... hva en tur! (Norwegian)... Vilken resa! (Swedish)... რა მოგზაურობას! (Georgian)... hansı bir səfər! (Azeri) ... ne bir gezi! (Turkish) ... in every sense of the word and from every country!
Next stop: Berlin! Was für ein Trip!
Beach'in it in Barcelona
Diego's family (Mom, sister, brother, Dad, Diego) at his parents home
Just a few pieces of famous artist's work from the Vilarasau home
Diego and me enjoying life on the Mediterranean--Calella style!
Calelle from the boat ... from the condo ... from the back side of Diego & his Dad
This was an amazing hike. All this peninsula land is/was owned by just 3 families. Diego's uncle was one of them. One other was a famous investor who rests at it's peak... where Diego plays morbid below
<---- Fun Foursome / Diego RIP'in it----> 
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