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| Miami’s Cuban Exiles Celebrate Castro’s Death | Miami’s Cuban Exiles Celebrate Castro’s Death |
| (about 1 hour later) | |
| MIAMI — This time it was true: Fidel Castro had died. | MIAMI — This time it was true: Fidel Castro had died. |
| Miami’s Cuban-American community erupted in the middle of the night and took to the streets of Little Havana to celebrate. They banged pots and pans. They sang the Cuban national anthem and waved the Cuban flag. They danced and hugged, laughed and cried, shouted and rejoiced. | Miami’s Cuban-American community erupted in the middle of the night and took to the streets of Little Havana to celebrate. They banged pots and pans. They sang the Cuban national anthem and waved the Cuban flag. They danced and hugged, laughed and cried, shouted and rejoiced. |
| The seemingly eternal vigil for the death of a man who had profoundly changed the lives of hundreds of thousands of people here — dividing their families, taking their property, imprisoning and sometimes shooting their friends and relatives, wrenching them from their homes and their country — was over. Finally. | The seemingly eternal vigil for the death of a man who had profoundly changed the lives of hundreds of thousands of people here — dividing their families, taking their property, imprisoning and sometimes shooting their friends and relatives, wrenching them from their homes and their country — was over. Finally. |
| “I owe this to my dad — this going out and celebrating,” said Isabel De Lara, 67, a former banker who ran to her car when she heard the news and drove to Calle Ocho — Eighth Street — to join in the jubilation. She wished her father, who is dead, could have joined her. | “I owe this to my dad — this going out and celebrating,” said Isabel De Lara, 67, a former banker who ran to her car when she heard the news and drove to Calle Ocho — Eighth Street — to join in the jubilation. She wished her father, who is dead, could have joined her. |
| It has been more than five decades since Ms. De Lara stepped foot off a plane alone, from Cuba, sent here at age 12 by parents who feared for her future after the Castro revolution. | It has been more than five decades since Ms. De Lara stepped foot off a plane alone, from Cuba, sent here at age 12 by parents who feared for her future after the Castro revolution. |
| “Him dying represents the end of something awful that happened to us,” she said. “It’s actually him — not anybody else — who caused this. It’s because of him that we lost our opportunity to have a life in our country.” | “Him dying represents the end of something awful that happened to us,” she said. “It’s actually him — not anybody else — who caused this. It’s because of him that we lost our opportunity to have a life in our country.” |
| Like thousands of others, she joined in the impromptu conga line of catharsis in front of Versailles Restaurant on Eighth Street, the unofficial headquarters of Miami’s Cuban exile community, where members have always gathered to swap opinions on the latest developments in Cuba over cafecitos and pastelitos. | Like thousands of others, she joined in the impromptu conga line of catharsis in front of Versailles Restaurant on Eighth Street, the unofficial headquarters of Miami’s Cuban exile community, where members have always gathered to swap opinions on the latest developments in Cuba over cafecitos and pastelitos. |
| So many people showed up, including scores of young people, that the Miami police, at the mayor’s request, closed off several blocks to accommodate the celebration. | So many people showed up, including scores of young people, that the Miami police, at the mayor’s request, closed off several blocks to accommodate the celebration. |
| “I believed it this time because it was Raúl Castro who said it, not the Cuban exile community,” said Mayor Tomás Regalado. After years of preparations for this moment, he was out on Eighth Street on Friday night celebrating with the rest of the crowd. | “I believed it this time because it was Raúl Castro who said it, not the Cuban exile community,” said Mayor Tomás Regalado. After years of preparations for this moment, he was out on Eighth Street on Friday night celebrating with the rest of the crowd. |
| “As mayor, we knew this was going to happen and we were kind of prepared, because you never know,” said Mr. Regalado, who was born in Cuba. “But this is spontaneous. There were thousands of young people, and Cubans of all ages, that I was surprised showed up. I was talking to them and they said, ‘It’s because of my father and grandfather.’ They were all victims of Cuba.” | “As mayor, we knew this was going to happen and we were kind of prepared, because you never know,” said Mr. Regalado, who was born in Cuba. “But this is spontaneous. There were thousands of young people, and Cubans of all ages, that I was surprised showed up. I was talking to them and they said, ‘It’s because of my father and grandfather.’ They were all victims of Cuba.” |
| Cuban-American lawmakers sent out a flurry of statements about Mr. Castro’s long-awaited death. | Cuban-American lawmakers sent out a flurry of statements about Mr. Castro’s long-awaited death. |
| “Today, a tyrant is dead,” said Representative Mario Diaz-Balart, a Republican whose aunt was Mr. Castro’s first wife, divorcing him before the revolution. “Although his totalitarian dictatorship deeply scarred a once-prosperous nation, his death ushers in a renewed hope that the Cuban people finally will be free.” | “Today, a tyrant is dead,” said Representative Mario Diaz-Balart, a Republican whose aunt was Mr. Castro’s first wife, divorcing him before the revolution. “Although his totalitarian dictatorship deeply scarred a once-prosperous nation, his death ushers in a renewed hope that the Cuban people finally will be free.” |
| Facebook exploded with celebratory messages — “Viva Cuba Libre.” | Facebook exploded with celebratory messages — “Viva Cuba Libre.” |
| For Cuban-Americans in Miami and beyond, particularly those old enough to remember the revolution, the death of Mr. Castro is the beginning of the end of a painful journey that set their lives on a completely unexpected path. Many arrived in a segregated Miami with little money, no command of English and no idea when they would be able to return. Many of them died here without ever returning. | For Cuban-Americans in Miami and beyond, particularly those old enough to remember the revolution, the death of Mr. Castro is the beginning of the end of a painful journey that set their lives on a completely unexpected path. Many arrived in a segregated Miami with little money, no command of English and no idea when they would be able to return. Many of them died here without ever returning. |
| Vivian Garcia-Montes Castellá, 75, was 19 when she came to the United States from Havana, thinking her stay would be temporary. In the early hours of Saturday, she wept after hearing the news, changed out of her pajamas and joined the caravan to Little Havana. She danced in the middle of the street, hugging strangers, as car horns blared, then ran into her nephew. | Vivian Garcia-Montes Castellá, 75, was 19 when she came to the United States from Havana, thinking her stay would be temporary. In the early hours of Saturday, she wept after hearing the news, changed out of her pajamas and joined the caravan to Little Havana. She danced in the middle of the street, hugging strangers, as car horns blared, then ran into her nephew. |
| When it started to drizzle, the party kept raging. | When it started to drizzle, the party kept raging. |
| But there was an overlay of sadness. Ms. Castellá knew so many people who had waited for this day their entire lives, and many of them had died without knowing that Mr. Castro had finally left Cuba. “There was such sadness to think of all the people, and what everyone went through, and the people who aren’t here today to celebrate and witness this,” she said. “My brother who was in the Bay of Pigs, he couldn’t enjoy it the way I am. The people they killed. The people who drowned on the way over here.” | But there was an overlay of sadness. Ms. Castellá knew so many people who had waited for this day their entire lives, and many of them had died without knowing that Mr. Castro had finally left Cuba. “There was such sadness to think of all the people, and what everyone went through, and the people who aren’t here today to celebrate and witness this,” she said. “My brother who was in the Bay of Pigs, he couldn’t enjoy it the way I am. The people they killed. The people who drowned on the way over here.” |
| In Miami, the post-Castro convulsion had long been talked about, rumored and planned for. Once, the city and county had a contingency plan to address a possible mass exodus of Cubans from the island to Miami; that is no longer anticipated. But many schools have a Castro-is-dead plan. And police departments were prepared on what to do — in Miami, this meant letting the people celebrate. | In Miami, the post-Castro convulsion had long been talked about, rumored and planned for. Once, the city and county had a contingency plan to address a possible mass exodus of Cubans from the island to Miami; that is no longer anticipated. But many schools have a Castro-is-dead plan. And police departments were prepared on what to do — in Miami, this meant letting the people celebrate. |
| The fact that Mr. Castro’s death came during a long holiday weekend made the news more manageable in many ways. | The fact that Mr. Castro’s death came during a long holiday weekend made the news more manageable in many ways. |
| Luis Lasa, a retired banker, watched events unfold on television from his Miami home, but it felt no less emotional. It was a lifetime ago that his father, an executive for an American company in Cuba, got a call from a military office in his Havana home on Oct. 25, 1960, warning him to leave the country. He left that night and the family followed the next day. Mr. Lasa was 10 years old. | |
| “They destroyed our families, they destroyed our traditions,” said Mr. Lasa, who lost a cousin in the bungled Bay of Pigs invasion. “Forget the property that we lost. We had been in Cuba 250 years. We lost so much there.” | |
| On Saturday, for so many exiles, it finally became easier to look forward and not back. Fidel Castro, even in his old age, remained the symbol of the revolution. Raúl Castro ruled, but always in his older brother’s shadow, exiles said. Without Fidel, Cuba can exhale, even though change may not come quickly. | On Saturday, for so many exiles, it finally became easier to look forward and not back. Fidel Castro, even in his old age, remained the symbol of the revolution. Raúl Castro ruled, but always in his older brother’s shadow, exiles said. Without Fidel, Cuba can exhale, even though change may not come quickly. |
| Still, “this is the beginning of the end,” Mr. Lasa said. | Still, “this is the beginning of the end,” Mr. Lasa said. |