“Luz contenida entrando por una cortina; quietud que sugiere presencia y ausencia.”

The Given was born out of a need for release: a need to put into words what runs through the head and heart in difficult moments. In the midst of acts of faith and dreams, I found the way to narrate the heaviest part of my story.

Sometimes we long to say so much, yet in daily life we don’t find whom to tell it to: maybe we’ve already exhausted many people with our story; maybe some think we should “move on,” or simply don’t know what to say.

I’ve found myself at that point more than once. One day I sat on my balcony, opened my laptop, and began to write everything I felt. Beyond working as a kind of therapy, writing gifted me with surprising stories and awakened in me the desire to write more, to tell more; above all, it helped me understand that pain is a powerful transformer of life. That’s how The Given began, without pretension: as a space to order what hurts and what heals.

I believe that the deeper the pain, the more you discover God’s love in your life. He embraced me in my solitude, consoled me, gave me breath, and showed me another path. At first—as I think happens to many of us—I wanted nothing to do with my work, because it brought me back to the memories of my wife, and those memories hurt. But as God kept showing me the way, I began to see other phases of my life I had never known.

Through everything this process brought, I recognized the need to speak—not only to unburden myself, but to speak with purpose: to reach people who may be going through something similar, who might feel seen and accompanied in this passage of life. And that is The Given: the gift I can offer through this short film.

With so many ideas and writings, I decided to begin at the point that changed my life so abruptly. I wanted to do it in a way that could reach more people, to remind them they are not alone, and that in these moments it’s okay to cry, scream, run, dance, and—though hard to believe—even laugh. It may sound crazy, I know, but sometimes flashes of joy break into memory, and they can even make you feel guilty, because you think you’re “not supposed” to be happy. But yes, those moments do come, and it doesn’t mean you’re losing your mind. If this story keeps you company, even just a little, that too is The Given.

At the heart of it, the idea is to tell this story not from pain, but from love: from what transcends and endures. And what better way to do so than through what my wife and I loved most: the audiovisual arts, especially cinema. That marvelous tool that allows us to express so many emotions and that, above all, when it carries a special message, invites us to reflect. That is why The Given exists: to transform grief into companionship. With The Given, I hope to share a gentle message with those who recognize themselves in this story, and with those who may have to walk alongside someone in a time of loss.

weigh differently and, in time, finds its place. I do not promise answers—only an honest, careful gaze. If this story touches something in you, I would like you to accompany it closely—and if not, let it pass quietly. Sometimes, the most human thing is to look with respect.

2 Responses

  1. Alex this is more than a story. I personally don’t know how to call it, but the magnificent about this is how the name of our Mercy God has touched your heart.