She was truly one of a kind.
I was lucky to be her son.
Sweet in just the right measure, in her words, in her thoughts, in her actions, in her expressions, in her thinking and gestures but – energetic like a general, lion-hearted, strong and fearless. Everything she started, she finished.
Few knew her like I did. Not even her sisters and brothers.
I, besides being her son, was her friend, confidant, accomplice, alibi, and witness to each other’s lives.
We made partnerships and pacts.
Many secrets shared.
Because we were so alike – inside and out; discussions and debates 
were frequent. But always with high spirits, a cool head, a woman avant-garde since her Getulista youth in a Rio very different from today.
She loved the intelligence and boldness of Carlos Lacerda.
She studied philosophy with a specialization in journalism (that was how it was back then).
She was a militant of UNE. Worked at “Última Hora” under Samuel Weiner when she was dating Danuza Leão. She easily bumped into Nelson Rodrigues in the newspaper’s newsroom. He would light one cigarette after another while writing his column “A vida como ela é”.
As a reporter, she covered the arrival of Carmem Miranda’s body in Rio, coming from Hollywood. The priest was to pray for the Portuguese star before the burial, but demanded that the heavy makeup from the American studios be toned down. Once done, they closed the coffin and a crowd took her to the São João Batista cemetery.
Today, I am here, reminiscing with the most pleasant aromas she left in every corner of the house.
And in a flash, a story comes to mind.
She was a classical dancer and almost made it into the official ballet company of the Municipal Theater in Cinelândia. She loved the classics. She knew everything about everything. Recently, I called her my walking Google.
But literature
The French language
The arts as a whole
The ancient and contemporary history were her voracious consumers
She spoke of Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff like no one else and, of course, the melancholic Chopin.
It was very difficult for that young woman full of dreams and culture to trade the capital of Brazil, in the State of Guanabara, for Uberlândia.
But she brought with her a certain flair.
She brought with her the rigid habits of a French boarding school after almost 8 years at Sacre Couer de Jesus.
The discreet elegance that could be noticed by the subtlety of not drawing attention.
Here she came to live with my father, with relatives from Mato Grosso, and my grandfather, Hermann Hugueney, was the owner of Hotel Rex (now Galeria Central).
And the photo of her at the end was to try to get her nieces Eliane Hugueney Santos Santos and Heloisa Santos Issa to get into the vibe of classical ballet.
I found the photo the other day – here among her keepsakes – the moment is on the terrace of Hotel Rex, Santos Dumont with Afonso Pena; where she lived under the baton of her mother-in-law, my grandmother, Rita Ferreira Carvalho Hugueney.
And today I decided to make this shard of glass from our inimitable kaleidoscope shine.
Mother: – until any time.
Unutterable longing.
Big kiss from your Carlos – the great-grandson.
(the “Tacho” or “Puchulum” – nicknames that only she – only she called me.
CARLOS HUGUENEY BISNETO
Journalist, Multimedia
www.hblog.com.br