Nebaj, Quiché, Guatemala, 2001.

Sunday, July 29, 2001. With a mixture of grief, joy, and relief, the remains of fifteen are about to be buried in the cemetery of one of the villages. Pablo, who stands at the center and is burying his father who was killed in 1983 by a military patrol, told me this earlier that day:

“The truth is that it’s a mixture of sadness and happiness. Sadness to see the remains since they are only bones that you have, in the case of my father. But at the same time you try to feel like you have him once again in your arms, in your hands. It wasn’t possible to reach out your hand and say: "Good-bye dad, we’ll see each other again who knows when," right? That’s no longer possible, even with his remains. But this moment, today, to still be able to recover part of his body, part of him, even if it’s only his remains.”