leave you, Michael, for almost year and a half. A lengthy period of absence, time that you were only present for your daughters and Fatima, the woman who was caring for. The stroke was severe, but did not bring the ticket to the boat of Charon and infamous granted an extension you that you went to a vegetative state. It was Christmas Day when the break occurred and left to get your many emails, your presentations, your music, your paintings, your computer tips and lavish your affection daily. I could say I've been mourning all along, but today is when you get buried.
You were a man light, the light Miguelito, as it were your father and brother, all employees of the utility. You were a master of everything you did. In Manilva, the town where you took the job, all admire you. I owe so much, mirror forever! You were an intellectual engaged in the business of living, but in a mundane world where floated effortlessly. Reading, music, philately and photography were the resources by which to escape mediocrity. All you were looking for, all you had you cheering and resources for all, including those who emigrated to France and translated them working conditions. Retirement arrival went to English and computer classes. Have lived, Michael, as an intellectual of people.
When Anna died, your wife, you were absent. Your children understand that my place was with you and I was invited to leave the morgue. I looked intently, I compassionately. We do not say anything, but we still loved over blood ties. Today you are getting buried and I can not go with you. You know, Miguel. You do not need explanations and I do not feel obliged to give them. I love you, Michael, I love you forever.
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