To all the people who knew Felipe, especially his friends, I’d like to tell you about his life here in Ireland, and tell you what happened. I’ll probably translate this in Spanish, with the help of some friends, but I hope that a lot of you can read English.
Tuesday 27th of November was a day like an other. When I went back from school on my bike, I met Felipe who was going to his basketball training. I greeted him with a “Felipiiiiiiito !”, almost killing myself because I wasn’t looking the road. He smiled to me and raised his hand, to say hello.
I saw him few minutes ago in my flat, because he had forgotten his glasses for the training (not the same that his red ones). He forgot his key somewhere, so he had to use a piece of plastic to open his door. He always let this piece of plastic in our flat, because this case happens really often.
I thought he couldn’t open it this time, because they changed the lock of the door few days ago. He just told me “Yes, I can, look !”. And he did.
He took his glasses, and we just told him “See you”, like always.
We (Borja, Thomas and me, neighbours and almost flatmates (compañeros de piso) de Felipe) were going to make food shopping. I also bought Christmas presents for them, a small figurine of catchers (wrestling): the Undertaker for Borja, Batista for Thomas, and el Rey Misterio for Felipe, because it was a spanish name and the toy seems to say “Tu eres un payaso !”.
Later, we learned that something happened in the gymnasium. He was playing a basketball match, one of the things he liked the most, with the AIT (the University) team, versus an other university. They were all having a break (some newspapers were wrong, he didn’t ask to go out, they were ALL out) when he collapsed suddenly. The members of the team told us that it was probably an epileptic attack. The doctor was coming, and everybody managed to help him.
Later on, we finally learned that it was worst: we wouldn’t see our friend anymore.
He was one of my best friends here in Athlone. He was eating with us every single day, taking his food, knocking at our door everytime. Sometimes, I asked him for a password to let him enter. It was “payaso”, a Spanish insult he taught me. He taught me a lot of useful and “good” sentences. The most famous was: “Tu eres un payaso ! Sabes ?”
He was a great cook, even if he burned our kitchen twice. He also invented the soap-soup: try to let a dirty saucepan with a lot of water and soap, let it on the fire until you remember it, and you’ll have a stinky boiling soup.
He was a brilliant student, and probably one of the cleverest people I ever met. But he was also a great joker, and a great friend. He was part of our Erasmus big family, and Felipe will be remembered forever all over Europe.
The last days, we stayed with his parents, who came in Ireland the day after the drama. The University’s staff helped us a lot. We heard that Irish people were very friendly, but now we know it for sure. The President, the priest, the Student Union, the International office… all the staff supported the family and the friends. They brought us food for all the time we kept watch over.
We took the relay every time so there was always a group of friend with the family, all day and all night long.
Thursday, it was the Remembrance day in the AIT: every years, the University remember his deads, people from the staff, students, teachers…
This time, it was kind of special, because it happens 2 days after we lost Felipe. There was a beautiful mass (messa) in the gymnasium. We know that Felipe wasn’t very religious: he told us that he used to stay out of the mass usually, to go to the pub with the others men doing the same.
So, I guess he was watching us this day, from the Scribes, the university’s pub, near to the gymnasium.
We started laughing during the mass, when the priest started to give “hostia”: the last sentence Felipe taught me was “Me voy a dar te una hostia !”. This priest was giving a lot of hostias, and people where waiting for it !
There was a lot of music during the mass, he would probably love it. And for the end, live singers played “Wish you were here”, his favourite song of the Pink Floyd.
I just want to say that he didn’t die alone, like his mother was afraid of: he had a lot of friends here in Ireland, and everybody liked him, because he was a nice person.
I will always expect you to knock at the door, especially the Sundays afternoon, when we were having the lunch at 4pm, just us 4.
We wish you were here, Felipe…
)
