La mujer que amé se ha convertido en fantasma. Yo soy el lugar de sus apariciones. Juan José Arreola
The woman I loved is now a ghost. She appears in me. - my translation
When I first met Rosemary in Mexico in December of 1967 I had no suspicion of her interest and knowledge in Mexican art. It was only in 1990 when I went to Lima to interview Mario Vargas Llosa that I began to read in my native language. Since then I have been an admirer of Arreola. Were Rosemary alive I would read aloud to her from his books. I now do this in silence.
I don’t believe in ghosts. I do understand (believe is not appropriate when reading into mathematics) the calculus. I was taught well by Professor Chicurel at Mexico City College in 1962. The concept of infinitesimals reaching a point at infinity on either the y or x axis can be simply explained that stuff stays around, even in small quantities.
Rosemary took Niño for a daily walk. I now take the same route. As I walk I walk through her presence (diminished it is), which will always be there. I call this an absent presence.
While there are no visible indentations on our bed on her side, some of them must still be there. When I pet Niño and Niña some of her hand is there.
Best of all, while not quite an absent presence, she is there in me in that she inspired me and championed me to be an artist.