Sometime, I don’t remember when, ‘Ocha’, of the many anecdotes that we shared and that she always celebrated out loud, told me the story of someone named Gustavo. Today, with anger and sadness, I also do not need the special characteristic of that real character, which made Rosa Elena, with her scathing sense of humor, associate her with me. I only have the certainty that, since then, she and I began to call each other with the hypocoristic of the hitherto incognito so-and-so: ‘Like’.
And so was Rosa Elena, a beautiful human being who had the virtue of calling people, without them getting angry, with expressions, idioms or names other than their first names. ‘Potra’, ‘Bonito Color’, ‘Socio’, ‘Mama’, ‘Mojona’ and many more nicknames, which she knew how to pronounce with captivating affection and make friends fall in love.
That was one of the many reasons people had for loving her. Rosa Elena Rosado Quintero was loved or loved. For whatever she was! And because God gave her a basket of virtues and anointed her with a wonderful angel who made her shine. ‘Ocha’ was a being of light.
I had no other options either. Hopelessly, I had to adore her. And I venerated her with the endearing love of a friend, almost of a brother. She was my confidant, without misgivings I gave her my secrets. That, her discretion and her loyalty, her virtues in danger of extinction, always showed me her probity and lordship.
To that integrity I began to add his passion for work, his commitment to his tasks and his perseverance put to the test of fire. ‘Like’ she never left anything half done, under no circumstances did she admit to being exhausted and never protested her chores.
His personality overflowed cordiality, love and generosity. And what to say about her solidarity and permanent willingness to serve.
Loving and self-sacrificing mother, faithful and virtuous wife and incomparable and loyal friend. Alba Rosa, ‘Migue’ and I can affirm it. ‘Ocha’, she was pretty inside and out.
Today I am proud of her and I promise to jealously guard not only her memory, but her ethical principles, her spiritual values, her dedication to work and her professional responsibility, which must become a legacy for current and future generations of journalists and a paradigm of efficiency, honesty and tenderness for those of us who had the unique privilege of knowing her.
Oh, ‘ocha’! I cry for you every night and every morning, I hear your beautiful and contagious laugh in the silence of my memory, I draw you in the car, the table and the office and I am losing my mind trying to remember the story for which we began to call each other ‘Gusta’ , because neither ‘Avo’, nor ‘Mary’, nor any of your brothers, including the good-natured ‘Vicrose’, have not wanted to remember either.
‘Like’, I adore you and I promise to honor you all my life.
By: Sergio Lopez
