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Thank you so much for your interview with Mercedes Doretti. I was born in Argentina, and came here after my marriage. My sister, Constanza, and my brother Fernando, as well as my cousin Horacio were kidnapped and killed by the military Junta government in Argentina. They dissappeared in 1974 and, like Mercedes says in her interview, my whole life froze. I was unable to finish college, my mother went into deep depression, my little sister left our home and moved in with her boyfriend's family. We could not stand the silence in the house, a house that had been filled with music and joy, since both my brother and my sister played the guitar. We all used to sing together, and our friends would drop by in the evenings just to make music with us. We were submitted to a subtle kind of torture: every once in a while there would be an anonymous phone call with "news" from our siblings. I will never forget that one year we were told that they "would be back for Christmas". That Chrismas Eve night (in Latin-America the big celebration happens on night that Christ was born) my mother refused to eat, to drink, to talk, waiting and waiting. Finally, she went to bed, heartbroken. After that day, we dreaded Christmas, because my mom would fall into her depression again. After about ten years I told my mother that they would not be coming back, and I offered to go through their belongings and decided what to do with them. I felt like I was burying them, going through my sister's make up, her ballet clothes, my little brohter's shoes (so big, he was seventeen when he was taken and had been growing so fast), his overcoat. So much pain, so little justice. Thank you for remembering them, thank you for the poetry and the beautiful music from my beautiful and wounded country.