Para meu tio Rogério
Tio Rogério,
I have to write in English, and I am sorry. I wouldn’t know how to say these words in mother tongue. They might feel too real. So I numb the pain through this language. It hurts less. You became an angel today, so you probably know all the languages. I am your niece, so my heart touches you now. I love you, tio.
The last time I spoke to you was early in January, and we talked for over an hour. I did not know it would be our last time truly speaking. But during that call, I had the chance to learn some stories I had never heard before, like all the fruits you have in the trees around you. And how to prepare castanha de caju (cashew nut) and how at times they explode in the oven. You told me so many stories at that night. You even told me about your super powers.
It was such a delight to hear you say that you were known as the Benjamin Button of the town because your white hair was becoming black again. You showed me on video how the roots of your hair were indeed growing out black!
The feeling of gratitude is one that I can’t fully explain, but it is how I felt after talking to you, and it is what I felt when thinking about you. It is also how I feel today, with one crucial and painful difference: I will no longer listen to your words, only to the memory of them.
I don’t want to write you a note that cries. You were made of poetry, and poetry never leaves one’s heart.
Thank you, tio.