The person who writes these lines was moved when he heard two weeks ago on RAC1 – on Xavi Bundó’s Via Lliure program – how the philosopher and theologian Francesc Torralba (Barcelona, ??1967) explained the ordeal he has been going through since August 14 . That day one of his sons (Oriol, 26 years old) lost his life when they were both crossing the Picos de Europa. The young man rushed into the void. In the attempt to help him, Torralba was suspended from the base of a tree while going down the precipice. There, not knowing if Oriol was still alive tens of meters below, he had to wait more than an hour until a helicopter rescued him. Philosopher, theologian and author of countless books, it happened that in 2020 he published one (Words of Consolation) which was about the loss of a loved one.
To begin with, I would like to know how it is. I understand that you must have gone through many phases since the accident: anger, denial…
I have not experienced the first phase of the grieving process, that of anger. I was stunned by what happened, but I didn’t have a tantrum against the world or God. I feel like I’ve come to terms with it, although there are times when I get really big waves of sadness and a lot of crying. In any case, I don’t think that the last phase of the process is acceptance.
What is it then?
Gratitude I feel lucky to have had him, to have known him, to have been able to educate him and experience so many things with him.
The accident happened during a mountain crossing that was initially not dangerous.
No, it wasn’t. It was a circular route of 30 kilometers. Oriol was the one who planned it. It ran along small, narrow paths, and although there was a difference in level, there was no risk. The problem was that we got lost on the way back to Cain. Also, the GPS was not working, there was no coverage. He was distressed there. We started looking for the right path with erratic movements. At one point it turned around a small bend and that’s when I heard a very loud bang.
And you approached the bend.
exactly And I didn’t see him anymore. I sensed that he had rushed. I started down the slope with the idea of ??seeing what condition it was in, but there came a point where the wall was very vertical and I couldn’t continue the descent. I was suspended at the base of a tree.
And did you have to wait a long time there?
More than an hour. All that time I feared the worst. I was calling his name several times but got no response.
And how was he able to keep his composure in that situation?
I became aware that I had to wait for the emergency services to come, which are the ones who have the tools and skills to act. I started screaming for help. From my position I could see at some distance the Cares route, very busy in the summer. Two people heard me. One of them went to the village to look for help, and there was no coverage there. After a while, a helicopter arrived.
And they rescued you.
Yes, with the help of a cable. They took me to Caín, where we had started the route. Then they went to look for Oriol. They had to use a second helicopter, with a longer cable. The first device could not go down to where my son was. In the end, the helicopter arrived in Caín and I saw that it was carrying a bag, located on the right side of the vehicle. They didn’t have to tell me he was dead.
Have you ever struggled with some kind of guilt?
No. Fortunately, neither I nor anyone in my family has felt this way. I also don’t like the hypothetical language: “If we hadn’t gone there, if instead we had done something else…”. The decision to make the excursion was his.
Does your mind take you to that day often?
Yes. Not a day goes by that I don’t remember him at one point or another. What helps? Keep your mind busy. The hard part is the breaks. At that moment is when his presence bursts in with great force, and there you fall apart.
But one cannot always be busy.
It’s true. Also, I believe that grief should be intermittent. In other words, you can’t evade permanently, because that’s not the way to make a scar. But you can’t be confrontational all the time either. You have to alternate. In other words, allow yourself to escape, going to the cinema or the theater and not feel guilty about it and, at the same time, let a wave of sadness come sometimes and you can vent.
You can’t beat something like that.
I’m talking about acceptance, not overcoming. I think that last word is not the most appropriate. Accept or assume are the verbs that I think are more appropriate. And each person has their own pace. The death of someone close creates chaos, and restoring order takes time. In one person it may be half a year, in another it may be two. The waves of sadness will continue to arrive, but not with the same height and volume of water.
You are a religious person. Does faith help in these cases?
A lot. But when someone experiences something like this, everything is moved: the system of values, beliefs… There are those who stop believing, and it’s very logical. He thinks: “God has failed me”. He even experiences anger. I have not experienced all this. There is another possible reaction that tests what image of God you have. The image of him pulling your chestnuts out of the fire or acting as a plumber, plugging holes, falls to the floor. And then you have two options: to think that God is not that and does not exist, or that he is a mystery that we cannot conceive. I don’t stop believing in it, but I don’t understand it. Faith also helps to think of a final reunion, and gives hope. What we call heaven, which we simplify as a place, I imagine as a state of infinite fullness. During our life there are moments when we feel it and want to stop time: to a piece of music, a landscape, or sitting with your child after a very great physical effort eating together, sweating and laughing. I think he experienced a very powerful moment that last day, and so did I.
