I am the proud daughter and daughter-in-law of Cuban exiles. I live in Miami, Florida with hundreds of thousands of other Cuban exiles and Cuban Americans like myself. It has been a while since I went through Facebook the way I have in these past few days. I have read many of my friends' posts reacting to the death of Fidel Castro. I have read the many stories of the people of Miami and the atrocities their families endured under the regime of Fidel Castro. How do I feel? I really do not know. Its a weird feeling. Although many have hit the streets with pots and pans celebrating, I have actually cried more than I have celebrated. His death, and all of the reactions and stories I've read have reminded me of the loss the Cuban people have suffered. I'm not talking about material things, although they did lose it all. I'm talking about leaving behind everything. Many lost their lives, many in very brutal ways for no justified reason. Many lost relationships with people who fell for the empty promises of the Revolution. Many left family members, some of whom they never saw again. They left lifelong friends. They left a way of life. They left the ability to practice their professions. They left the ability to speak their own language in their own country. They left a belonging to a country. They left the opportunity to live in a country that they loved. They left the opportunity to show their children and their grandchildren where they lived, where they went to school, where they were married... They left the opportunity to continue living their own lives within the culture they knew so well and loved. This is where my tears come from. Although I am not a Cuban exile, I feel that I too have lost a lot. I have never been able to know my parents' home country. I have never seen where they grew up. I have never seen the sugarcane plantations that the Castro regime took away from my grandfather. I have never seen the houses that my other grandfather, an architect, built. The sad truth is that I will probably never see these things because they don't exist anymore. This is also part of my sadness. My parents' Cuba is long gone and only exists in their memories. His death cannot bring it back, nor does it end the oppression of the people in Cuba, but it is the end of a man who brought so many tears to so many people.

His death is on the last page of a very long and sad chapter for Cuban people everywhere. This is where the tears end and the hope slips in. My hope is that in the next chapter we see the beginning of the end of the oppression in Cuba. I do not think it will happen overnight. It may take another 50 plus years. I have no idea. I pray that this next chapter ushers in a sense of hope to Cubans everywhere. Hope to the exiles of maybe being able to see some change in their Cuba during their lifetime. Hope to the people living in Cuba, of the possibility that there might be change on its way. Hope to me that maybe one day, I, and my children, will get to meet the Cuba I have grown up hearing so much about. Hope that I will be able to make that trip with my parents and my in-laws.

I have lived in Miami most of my life but have had the opportunity to travel quite a bit in the past few years. I am always asked where I am from because they cannot figure out my accent. I always say "I am American...", and I am proud of that. But I always have a need to add, "...of Cuban descent." Where does this need come from? It comes from being proud to belong to a people who have survived despite the brutality they faced. A people who had to flee to a new country where they barely spoke the language, if at all, and where their licenses to practice their professions were no longer valid, yet they started at the bottom, worked hard, and prospered. A people who came with nothing and made a life for themselves. A people who have maintained their culture and traditions while adapting to those of the country who took them in and gave them a new home.

Now what? I do not know if there will be a change anytime soon, but I do know one thing, Fidel Castro and his regime may have taken a lot from the Cuban exiles, but he could not take away their desire for freedom, because that desire for freedom comes from deep inside each and every one of us. It is the same desire that people everywhere have. This all leads me to the conclusion that our lives are never in the hands of people like Fidel Castro. My life is in the hands of the One who created me and walks with me. Yes, I am a proud American. And, yes, I am a proud Cuban American. But I am more than that. I am a Christian and that gives me hope and sustains me even when things are not going my way. I will continue to pray for the people of Cuba and for all those living under oppression, to find the freedom that their hearts desire. But I will also pray for those of us who live in "free" countries to understand what true freedom is and where it comes from.