Saying goodbye to a loved one is one of the most difficult things in life. No one teaches us how to deal with it, but we all have to go through it at some point.

When the person is endearing to us despite no blood ties, it’s just as hard, but when a legacy is left, the pain is less.

Ronaldo Veitía was back from everything. After unexpectedly losing his beloved wife, and already far from the hustle and bustle of judoguis and mats, the world was too big for him.

These last years he was traveling halfway around the world, invited by all who revered his pedagogy, but his soul was closer to those he was leaving along the way. After falling ill in Spain, he never said it publicly, but he knew that he was facing one of his last battles, and he did not want to fight it in any field other than his long-awaited Cuba.

His wish was fulfilled, and his last breath left him in his land, the one that is proud of him, despite the usual controversies and disagreements in human beings.

Because no one, not even those who dared to criticize him, could ignore his consecration and commitment to his various generations of judo women, like Mariana as he always liked to call his pupils.

Before that great responsibility that entails directing women, he established guidelines, and in the face of many obstacles he always knew how to grow and train in his judokas the seeds of pride, discipline, and consecration, which are the best friends (and enemies) of talent.

I saw him "fight" many times for his girls, "fight" training bases when there was no money to pay for them (thanks to his prestige and charisma) and even step aside when he felt that his work was already done. As he told me once, there he left his results so that whoever came after him would know how much can be done with sacrifice and dedication.

From his small town on the outskirts of the capital he left daily, still dawn, to deliver his wisdom and get the most out of his trainees.

His "tantrums" were known when things were not done properly, but also his sensitivity to deal with adolescents marked by love, family separation and the desire for succeed.

He welcomed me in his house when he was no longer the Veitía who shook the foundations of Inder when he was angry and won me over with his honesty and his detachment from material things. We exchanged books (he gave me one of his, on judo, of course, and I gave him mine on soccer) and then we discussed the reading, via e-mail.

He opened his heart to me and I saw him get emotional with something as simple as a song (by Pablo Milanés), or when he remembered his mother.

Veitía has just left for another place, but wherever he goes, judo will revere him. The phrases that accompanied him so much will continue to resound in the mats, because in the fight of his life the word Mate did not exist.