Chapter Text
The great Camilo Madrigal, the last of Pepa’s children, spent his last day on earth on a remarkable Wednesday morning in his large country home surrounded by his family, beloved by an entire nation.
Just yesterday a hurricane tore through Colombia. Hot on its devastating heels was another, even bigger hurricane. But in the time it took for one to follow the other, in the glorious liminal space between individual disastrous weather phenomena, the skies were bright and clear, sunny with just a hint of a breeze, untroubled and charmed as the life the man had led, or so they said.
It was then that Camilo finally heeded his mamita’s call and ascended to the heavens.
Everyone found it fitting that the nation’s playwright, as Camilo eventually became known, would bid his farewell in such fantastical style. So, while the entire country mourned their loss, they also celebrated Camilo Madrigal’s magical life.
Isabela chuckled as she sat back and listened to people tell taller and taller tales about her primo’s long life and its eventful close.
Oh, if Camilo could only hear them now! He might have made his name for the magical realism and fantastical elements (hah!) that he injected into his plays and novels, but these young people were giving him a run for his money with their gossip.
These young people, so unused to everyday magic, didn't know what they spoke of.
In fact, there was nothing magical or fantastical about the weather. Tia Pepa was simply coming by to fetch her hijo. And, of course, she wasn’t going to do it without first announcing her visit. Of course, she’d make her ire known to everyone! Camilo, just shy of his centennial, was late to dinner once more.
He had bragged to Isabela, who was already past a century on earth but still as spry as ever, that he’d catch up to her and proudly hold the title of the longest-lived of Alma’s grandchildren. Isabela had laughed and taken him up on his bet even as she watched Camilo struggle to take in another breath after that one line, the machines that kept his body functioning humming in the background like the cresting chorus of an inevitable wave about to break on the surf.
Well, today marked the day she officially won their little bet. Camilo’s mamita’s patience, it seemed, had finally run out. On this fabulous Wednesday morning, before the skies were once again swallowed up by dark clouds and oppressive winds whipped around, Pepa’s favorito hijo finally came home and joined the rest of his family.
…And on that clear-skied Wednesday morning, Isabela Perfecta became the last of the original Madrigal family to set out from the encanto.
She would not be long among the living too.
She would live forever.
She would leave; she would stay.
Isabela didn’t quite know yet how that worked out, but she began making preparations for a departure nonetheless.