Guillermo Afaro Martinez “Memo” 1942-2008

It is with great sadness that I post here to inform everyone that my dad passed away last night at the young age of 65. He battled CC for 20 months and died peacefully with my mom by his side and the rest of his family surrounding him.

Guillermo Alfaro was born in 1942 in Mexico City to a family of physicians and not surprisingly became one himself. In 1965 while a resident in Paris he met my mom, with whom he was married for almost 43 years. In 1968 they left for Edinburgh Scotland so dad could pursue his PhD; they later lived in Philadelphia where dad as a postdoctoral fellow. Upon his return to Mexico they had their only son (me) and lived very happily in the same house since 1973. Dad held a variety of teaching and research positions in the National University and National Institute of Cancer. He retired in 2006 upon his diagnosis.

My dad was a man of strange habits and a rather atypical person. He was affectionate but not social and would rather read a book than spend a night in the town. He devoured books and knowledge like no one I ever met and he was the person you could always count on for obscure facts.

Dad was a man out of time. Sometimes I think he should have lived in a different era. He was always out of sorts in big cities and loved his little country house outside Mexico City. He was a passionate traveler and loved to visit us in Seattle, where I often feared he would want to move:)

My dad was not a perfect man. Seldom agreed to things easily, had a temper and was Philly fan, something inadmissible in a Mariner household. He was also stubborn and would sometimes spend too much time with his own mind than with others. That however, made him who he was. Eclectic, intelligent and above all honest to a fault.

I know I will miss my dad dearly and will cherish the conversations we had, his visits to Seattle and his love for my mom, my wife and his dear Ines and Andrea.

I feel a strange sense of relief knowing he is no longer suffering or depressed; I frequently think he was wasted by depression beyond any tumors.

“Memo” will be missed but he leaves a legacy that will not be forgotten (plus several thousand books no one will know what to do with)

Dad, I will miss you very much.

Amilcar