He was always cheerful, making jokes about almost everything, although his life had not been easy. Easy going, at work he was a good team player. I was many times the target of his jokes at the newsroom. At the beginning I didn’t know how to take it. But soon I didn’t care. I answered with more jokes. We shared many laughs. We become good friends.

He was married and he had a six month baby who was his treasure. He was proud of his boy and he brought us every day new photos to show us how he was growing up.

The Fiesta of San Fermin was approaching. The 5th of July our boss told us we would have to work together to do the information about the run of the bulls. We spent the whole day making plans about how to organize the work for the upcoming days. He went home before me because he lived in a village out of Pamplona.

That night when I was sleeping they woke e up with the news that he was dead. A car accident. We went all to Estella, his village, to console his wife. I was devastated.

We had to somehow cope our grief, while our city, Pamplona,exploded in joy and madness during the San Fermín. It was so hard to get into the atmosphere of the fiesta in the middle of our pain. But our newspaper had to go out every day full of cheerful news.

The fiesta passed and my boss decided that provisionally I was going to take the job of my dead coworker. He was the one in charge of the information about the municipality.

I had to take his unfinished job. I remember the first day I went to the city hall to search for information for my page. the workers at the offices barely could hold their tears when I mentioned the name of my colleague: Gonzalo. He was a good man. Good with everybody. Why the best are the ones who go away before? He was 28. He was a proud spouse and father, a good friend and a great journalist.


In the featured image the city hall of Pamplona, Spain.

Author: Olga Brajnović

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