I finished your book this week. I don't want to add to it anymore. I think you don't want me to add to it anymore either because as I wrote "Sabor a Mi" came on twice and so did "Por Un Amor". "Por Un Amor" came on just as I was finishing, so I'll take the hint. I think we're both tired. Also, I think you don't want me to share anymore of your life.
I want you to know that I needed to share those things though, to show how much you still loved even after everything you'd lost.
Sometimes when I think of us, it's in stages. When I was little you and Mom were my whole world. Later as teen, I owned the asshole genes from our family like a proud scrape on my new Vans. I was annoying, and standoffish, and well an asshole. I'm sorry for all the times I was a jerk and/or rude. As an adult, I was always working. I remember you would always make me refried cheesy beans at the drop of hat. How did you always have beans made?
When I talk about you in class I imagine that you are sometimes there watching, excited that people are learning about you (or maybe not depending on the story). For the record, I never thought it was weird you took me to bars. Maybe not typical, but you made me smarter, more street wise, which is good because then I would only be one kind of smart.
Anyway, I wanted to tell you that I hope you like the finished book, and you know why I wrote it. I hope that you're not angry with me for writing it. More important, I hope you're not angry at me for staying away so long. You taught me an important lesson even in death. I hope that you help me make the book successful (because I think everyone should know you), and that people understand (I realize not everyone) but that it was truly written por un amor.