¿Mató tu bisabuelo al mío? : Cómo el trauma de la Guerra Civil y del franquismo ha atravesado cuatro generaciones

My grandmother, Rosita Sesé Miralles, died on February 1, 2016, without ever knowing where her father, Manuel Sesé Mur, was buried. Two Civil Guards shot him point-blank one afternoon in January 1948, and from then on, his whereabouts remained an open wound. My grandmother passed away without ever hearing me say what she so desperately needed to know: "Grandma, I know the names of those who killed him that day. I know where they buried him." That murder has completely permeated my life. Writing this book has allowed me to stop feeling like an outsider for living so connected to the murder of Manuel Sesé Mur, which occurred forty-seven years before I was born, and to my grandmother's subsequent suffering. Because, like me, this country is full of great-grandchildren marked by a legacy of trauma and violence. These pages feature dozens of descendants of people executed, imprisoned, tortured, or disappeared by the Franco regime. They are great-grandchildren who didn't live through the war or the dictatorship, but who have inherited its silences, its absences, and its consequences. Many grew up hearing fragmented sentences, seeing photographs kept in envelopes, sensing a pain that no one could quite explain. And yet, it is they who have gone to the archives, who have pushed for exhumations, who have sought to give a name, a face, and truth to what was erased for decades. Here, the great-grandparents cease to be a blurred figure in the family narrative and become, at last, real people, with their own names, with stories, with bodies, and with a presence that demands justice. This is not just a book about the past. It is a book about what we do today with that legacy, about impunity, about the cracks in the Transition, and about a generation—the great-grandchildren—that is trying to reinterpret a still-silenced past.