Zapatero's father dies in Spain at the age of 100

Zapatero's father dies in León at the age of 100

What can be said about a man who died at 100 and whose son was Prime Minister of Spain? A tweet from Mediterráneo Digital announced the death in León of the father of José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero. From there, the conversation drifted where it usually drifts: the son, the jewels and the inheritance. Because the deceased, in truth, was the least of it.

The death and the age as a data point

The objective fact is sparse: 100 years old and León as the place of death. The news, as it stands, is a death notice. But as soon as it crosses paths with the Zapatero surname, it stops being a death notice and becomes a political act. The age, which in any other context would command respect, here served the opposite purpose: to mock the supposed longevity of the wicked, to speculate about vaccines, and to point out that the son is still alive and kicking.

Some maintain that dying at 100 is a misfortune for those left behind, not for the one who goes. And some wrote outright that "when not even hell wants you, you live a long life." The line isn't signed by any editorial board, but it sums up the general tone.

The jewels, the inheritance and the imaginary looting

The jewels issue came up early on. Apparently, there is a recurring story about some family jewels that the former prime minister supposedly received and kept, or that were stolen from him, depending on the version. One comment summed it up: "He surely died proud of how thrifty his son is — they give him some jewels and he keeps them for a rainy day." Another added: "Or of the upset of having the family jewels taken from him."

There is no confirmation of anything. Nor is any needed. In the collective imagination, the inheritance has already been divided up: "Let's see what ZP inherits now," "All those jewels he's going to grab now." The irony is that nobody knows whether those jewels exist, yet everyone talks about them as if they had seen them.

The son, politics and postal voting

The deceased was Zapatero's father, and that turns any comment into a political comment. "After all the grief his son, who turned out to be a fool, has given him lately," wrote one person. "POOR MAN... HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE RAISED," added another. The figure of the former prime minister still provokes rejection in certain quarters, and his father's death was the excuse to say so.

Some took the matter to electoral territory: "But fortunately he'll still be able to vote by post. That's what he wanted, we must respect his right to vote if we want to be democrats." The reference to postal voting is a classic in any conversation about Zapatero, even though the deceased didn't vote.

Conspiracy theories and lukewarm farewells

There was no shortage of mentions of the Freemasons, the Rothschilds and the Rockefellers. "A long life, like every satanic Freemason," wrote someone, offering no evidence. That is the price of dying at 100 in a Spain where everything is explained by conspiracies.

And then there were those who moved straight past it: "I'm not glad, but I couldn't give a damn either." Indifference is also a stance. "RIP," wrote others, more out of politeness than conviction.

What remains of a 100-year-old man

In the end, Zapatero's father died at 100 and all that was left was his son's surname. The news is the death, but the topic is another one. It always is. And that is how a man is bid farewell who, in all likelihood, did nothing to deserve the circus.