“Today is the angel that this family has in the sky”: the profound letter that the aunt of Puma Domínguez’s wife wrote to greet her niece

Days of shock pass through the world of golf following the death of Maria Vittoria De La Mota Claverieplayer’s wife Emilio Puma Dominguez, due to dengue. The outcome occurred last Saturday, while the athlete was returning to the country from a tournament in Mexico from which he had had to withdraw when he was informed of the worsening health from which his 33-year-old partner had suffered. It only took a few hours Claverie’s mother released a heartbreaking letter saying goodbye to her daughter. And now, It was his aunt’s turn.

“Was this Elegy intended to describe your departure, Victorita, from our soul?“, Catalina begins, making use of some verses from the poem Elegy From Miguel Hernandez to open the heartfelt letter he posted on his Facebook account to say goodbye to his granddaughter.

“So much pain accumulates alongside us, that since it hurts, our breathing also hurts. A hard slap, a cold blow, an invisible and deadly ax blow, a brutal push knocked you to the ground”, continued Lis’ sister, Victoria’s mother.

“Soon death took flight, soon dawn rose, soon you will roll on the ground,” quotes the last stanza of the poem. And from her own words, Catalina added: “Victoria was everything good in this world. Today she is the angel this family has in heaven“.

The verses chosen by Aunt Catalina belong to the same poem that Lis, mother of María Victoria De La Mota Claverie, chose to greet her daughter, also through social networks. The composition was composed in 1935, when Miguel Hernández wanted to pay homage with those words to his friend Ramón Seijé.

Lis is a writer and has a black background on her social media avatar, a clear sign of mourning. Victoria’s mother chose to caption her post with a heartbreaking phrase: “My little daughter is dead“.

Domínguez had married “Vicky” – 33 years old – in 2016 and They had become parents of Costantino and Ippolito, aged 4 and 1 respectively.. “Victoria’s health deteriorated so rapidly that she died while Puma was making the more than 7,000 kilometer journey home,” the PGA Tour’s official website said.

De La Mota Claverie, whose funeral took place this Sunday in the “Garden of Memory” cemetery in the capital San Luis, she was a clothing designer and, according to his profile on the Linkedin social network, he worked at the company Kosiuko for seven years.

She enjoyed playing tennis and was also encouraged to try golf, the sport to which her husband dedicates his life. “Vicky is learning to drive,” Domínguez wrote in an August 2015 post, in which her wife was seen practicing.

The disturbing news also hit friends and Tour colleagues in the early hours of Saturday. “Having shared countless tournaments and trips with Puma, a warm and affable person, the Argentine players competing in Mexico were particularly upset,” the PGA explained.

In support of Puma and his family during Sunday’s final round at Atlas Country Club, Tour players and staff wore black bows on their clothing.

The complete poem that the aunt and mother dedicated to La Mota Claverie

I want to cry, gardener of the land you occupy and fertilize, companion of the soul, so soon.

Feeding rains, shells and organs, my pain without instrument, to the discouraged poppies, I will give your heart as food.

So much pain builds up in my side, that even my breathing hurts from the pain.

A hard slap, a cold blow, an invisible and deadly ax blow, a brutal push knocked you to the ground.

There is no greater extension than my wound, I cry for my misfortune and its combinations and I feel your death more than my life.

I walk on the stubble of the dead, and without warmth from anyone and without comfort I go from my heart to my things.

Soon death arose, flight, early dawn arose, soon you will roll on the ground.

They do not forgive death in love, they do not forgive careless life, they do not forgive the earth and nothingness.

In my hands I raise a storm of stones, lightning and screeching axes, thirsty for catastrophes and hungry.

I want to dig the earth with my teeth, I want to separate the earth piece by piece with dry, warm teeth.

I want to dig the earth until I find you and kiss your noble skull, gag you and give you back.

You will return to my garden and my fig tree: your soul, hive of waxes and angelic works, will bird along the high scaffolding of flowers. You will return to the cooing of loving farmers’ bars.

You will illuminate the shadow of my eyebrows, and your blood will go both ways disputing your bride and the bees.

Your heart, already worn velvet, calls the voice of my greedy lover in a field of foaming almonds.

I ask the winged souls of the cream almond roses, that we must talk about many things, soul mate, companion…