The day before retirement is not just another day. It marks the line between what has been and what comes next. Today, in Mayarí Arriba, I stood beside Mayda —my secretary for sixteen years, partner of every morning, the one who kept our rhythm— as she said goodbye to her working life. Listening to her, I felt it was not only her farewell, but ours too: a shared step into memory and gratitude.
Sixteen years together can pass in a heartbeat. In that time, Mayda was more than the person answering calls or arranging papers. She was the one who kept us steady, the memory of our team, the presence that held each day together. She gave consistency to our work, and her calm strength reminded us that even in the busiest moments, there was order and care. She was also the one who reminded us of birthdays, who noticed when someone was struggling, and who offered encouragement without expecting recognition.
I imagine what she feels now: the mix of leaving behind routines that shaped so many mornings, the affection built in a workplace united by purpose, the weight of closing a door she opened forty years ago. For some, retirement can feel like silence. For us, Mayda does not leave —she changes. Her voice will still guide, her experience will still teach, her memory will still root us. She will remain part of our daily story, even if her desk is no longer beside ours. And in truth, her influence will continue in the way we work, in the habits she helped us form, and in the values she lived every day.
We feel the nostalgia too. Saying goodbye to someone who was the heart of our team means accepting that time moves forward, that life asks us to adapt. Today we remembered laughter in stressful moments, quick solutions that turned into brilliance, gestures of support in hard times. Above all, we remembered that we worked together for something bigger than ourselves. Those shared efforts built not only results, but friendships and trust that will last. And as we looked back, we realized that Mayda’s presence was not only professional, but deeply human —she gave us the gift of stability and kindness.
Retirement is not an ending. It is a new beginning. It is the recognition of a life given to service, and the chance for Mayda to look back with gratitude. For us, it is the reminder that true bonds do not break with a change of stage. We will keep turning to her, not only for her wisdom, but because she is part of our story. And we will continue to celebrate her, not only today, but in the many days ahead when her example inspires us. Her journey shows us that dedication leaves a mark, and that the value of a life’s work is measured not only in tasks completed, but in the people touched along the way.
So, the day before retirement, I do not feel a chapter closing, but another opening. One in which Mayda, from her new horizon, will remain a reference. And we, with affection, will keep celebrating the gift of having shared the path with her.
Tomorrow, when the sun rises, it will not be an ending, but a new light: retirement as a wide horizon, where experience shines and memory endures. It will be the start of a calmer rhythm, but also the continuation of a story that belongs to all of us. And in that story, Mayda will always have a place, not only in memory, but in the way we continue to walk forward together.
Original text by the author.
Images are my property.
