It is now the middle of August and we’re moving perilously close to the first-year anniversary of Lalo’s death. I use the adjective “perilously” because I can almost feel a darkening as we move towards September.

            Although I have tried to make this blog about Lalo’s life, it always comes back around to his death, to his absence and to our pain at losing him. I suppose you could say that, in a way, the degree of our collective pain becomes a tribute to his life.

            Is there more to be said about Lalo? More than could fill a universe of tomes and there would still be a whole additional universe of all that was not spoken. But, surely, every person who has loved another feels this way. Surely, most people enter into this category, at least for those who loved them. Is it really possible to say one was better or more worthy of love, attention or note than another? I don’t believe so.

            Death snatches from us all that is good and kind and beautiful of those we love. We are left empty handed; desperate not to fill a void we know will never be replaced by anything or anyone, but to see this object of our affections among us once again. Here is where we want to turn the clock back, again and again, to rewind the movie of our lives, to find a way to pause the story at precisely the last moment of laughter, of blissful ignorance, before the coming of the shadow that now covers our existence.

             This blog was started to keep a promise; I believe I’ve kept it to the limits of my ability. It is not that I have no more to say about my brother; it is not that there is nothing more to his life than what I and others have tried to express. But the cycle is nearing its end. After the two remaining entries for August, I will post one last entry for the first week of September.

            To those who contributed to the blog, I wish to express my deepest thanks. To my mother and Gloria, who tenaciously held on to the idea of the project and who truly helped me keep my promise with endless contributions of their own and words of advice for me when I faltered, I express my undying gratitude. To all of the readers of the blog, most of whom I’ve never met and who come from the most surprising places like Germany, Russia, Ukraine, Malaysia, France, Spain, the UK, and many more, in addition to Mexico and the US, I hope The Acapulco Experience gave you at least a taste of my brother’s life, of his country, of his essence. You can listen to some of his music at www.lalo-olivares.com. I also wish thank you for becoming what I never expected to find among strangers… loyal companions on this journey.

Susana Olivares Bari