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Jorge Mas
Canosa
Born in Santiago, Cuba, on September 21,
1939
Died
in Miami, USA, on November 23, 1997
Eulogy by Raul
Mas Canosa, Jorge's younger brother
Most people have
focused on my brother's accomplishments as a
patriot and as a political leader, but I want to
talk to you about Jorge as an individual, who he
was as a man, a father, a husband, a brother, a
good son, a great friend, a faithful Catholic, a
sinner, an individual with his share of human
frailties, but above all a man who loved life,
who loved both his native Cuba and his adopted
country and who lived every moment of his short
58 years as if there were no tomorrow.
Many people say that his greatest legacy is the
Foundation and what it represents, an
institution dedicated to restoring freedom in
Cuba, which I have no doubt will carry on the
struggle with renewed dedication and effort. But
to focus on Jorge exclusively as a political
figure would be a great injustice. Jorge was
much more than that.
To me, his greatest legacy can be found in a number of
places, beginning with his family, his loving
wife Irma, his three magnificent boys: Jorge,
Juan Carlos, and Jose Ramon, anyone of whom
individually would make any father intensely
proud and who have thus far blessed him with
four wonderful grandchildren and a fifth still
to come.
Jorge managed to generate intense loyalty and love among
those he considered his friends. In the Bible,
Jesus tells us that ''Greater love hath no one
than this: that he lay down his life for his
friends.'' Jorge was the type of person who
would have gladly laid down his own life for the
sake of a good friend, not to mention his
beloved Cuba.
And as I look out onto this crowd, I see the faces of dozens,
perhaps even hundreds, of individuals who would
have gladly done the same for him, who would
have gladly accepted his suffering without
hesitation. That, my friends, is greatness,
indeed.
Aside from his friends, Jorge managed to generate warmth and
affection in practically everyone he came in
contact with. He felt as comfortable dealing
with a head of state as he did with a common
laborer in one of his many companies. One
evening he'd be at a gala dinner, and the next
day he'd delight in sharing a good chivo or rabo
encendido with someone who brought it to work in
a cantina.
I can tell you as a fact that Jorge preferred those simple,
home-cooked meals with his employees, or with
his friends or his family, more than anything
else.
Last night I had an opportunity to walk among the long lines
of people waiting patiently to view his mortal
remains. I was particularly impressed with the
number of elderly people who traveled from all
over and stood quietly while waiting to pay
their respects.
Older people have a special wisdom that comes with
experience. They've been around the block a few
times and have learned to separate the real from
the fluff. They have the ability to see things
in perspective, taking into account both the
good and the bad. To see so many of them was
indeed touching. Perhaps they recognized my
brother for what he truly was: a great man, an
imperfect man, but one who was the genuine
article, whose convictions were real, whose
passion for a free and democratic Cuba knew no
bounds.
I heard a number of comments from the people, which I would
like to read from the press.
Many people commented on the irony of his short life, on how
he didn't get to see a free Cuba, on how he
''lost his life at such a young age.'' Let's
talk about that.
In his short life, Jorge lived the type of life that most
people can only dream of. He was an inspired
patriot, a self-made millionaire, a wonderful
father, a great son and brother, a
philanthropist, a faithful servant of God.
Do not lament his short lifetime. Give thanks for the
life he led, a full life, always at full
throttle, never looking back. Jorge didn't lose
his life; he gave his life. He gave it to what
he most believed in: the restoration of freedom
and democracy in the land he loved -- his
beloved Cuba. And while he did not get to see a
free Cuba in his mortal life, I am sure that he
eventually will see it from above.
I have no doubt in my mind that he's up there right
now, lobbying God himself for the freedom of
Cuba. The irony of Jorge's death will always
serve to make Cuba eventual freedom even
sweeter. Look closely in the months ahead, for
I'm sure you'll see Castro's beard becoming mas
canosa.
Do not lament the fact that his life is over, while
that tyrant still lives on this earth. Remember
the words of Saint Augustin: ''Faith maintains
this principle and we must believe it: Neither
the soul nor the body suffers complete
annihilation. The wicked rise again for
punishment beyond imagination, while the good
rise for everlasting life.''
To all of you who have suffered with us during this
difficult period: Accept the suffering with joy.
Remember how in Romans, chapter five, we are
told: ''Let us rejoice in our sufferings,
because we know that suffering produces
perseverance, perseverance character, and
character hope. And hope does not disappoint us,
because God has poured out his love into our
hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given
us.''
Let us move forward -- adelante, adelante, adelante --
with the power and the strength of the Holy
Spirit on our side.
I want to tell you a few things about Jorge's death, because
it is said that until the day of one's death no
one can be sure of one's courage. If that's the
case, then I can assure you that Jorge's death,
like his life, was courageous indeed. He kept
his illness a secret, not wanting to worry us,
certainly not wanting to affect the work of the
Foundation. He attended to the needs of others,
including myself, even though he was in great
pain and slowly dying.
I remember one moment in particular, sitting in his
living-room, when he mentioned his pain and
suffering and he said to me: ''After all God has
given me, I accept this pain willingly and offer
it as a sacrifice to Him.'' He was a good
Catholic to the end, well aware that, while it's
good for Man to gain the whole world, what good
is it if you lose the worth of your very self.
I spoke earlier of his common touch. It was evident, even in
his death, that he kept his ability to generate
warmth and affection among all. In those last
few hours, as his heart slowly faded as we
watched the monitor, we'd watch it go down and
then suddenly come back up again to 75, 80 beats
a minute. And his nurse, Elizabeth, who had been
at his side all that time and who's here with us
today, said to me: ''What someone wouldn't give
for a heart like that!''
Elizabeth, if you only knew the half of it -- the heart that
man had!
After he died, his gardener, Israel, came to pay his last
respects. I said to him: ''I can't look after
you anymore, but someone else surely will.''
I know that my brother had his critics. People liked to
fault him for what he did or didn't do, but I
don't think anyone can doubt his sincerity or
patriotism. And I would like to leave you with
something to remember him by, some words that
were spoken by a very famous American patriot
early in the century, 1910, a president by the
name of Teddy Roosevelt. He wrote: ''It is not
the critic who counts, not the man who points
out how the strong man stumbles or how his deeds
could have been done better. The credit actually
belongs to the man who's actually in the arena,
whose face is marred by dust, sweat and mud, who
strives valiantly, errs and comes up short again
and again. There is no effort without error and
shortcomings.
''Who actually does strive to do the deeds, who knows
the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who
suspends himself in a worthy cause, who at the
best knows in the end the triumph of high
achievement and who at the worst, if he fails,
at least fails while faring greatly, so that his
place shall never be with those cold and timid
souls who know neither victory nor defeat.''
Goodbye, dear brother. I would tell you to rest in
peace, but I know you're up there fighting for
all of us. I love you. |
