My Brother and My Dad
I met my "brother" in July,
Not too long ago.
He seemed like such a nice guy,
and we got along well from the get-go.
He's nice, funny, and sweet,
but at times the jokes went too far.
However, I forgave him all the time,
and each day began with a clean start.
He went to my Quinceanera,
and was with me on my special day.
I remember what he told me,
while we danced the night away.
I also met "Dad" in July,
when he would pick up my brother.
The first time we met,
Carlos presented him as "our" father.
From that day on,
He wanted me to call him Dad.
I was proud of it since
I got the older brother I never had.
On November ninth,
Dear dad passed away.
I felt so horrible;
I saw him almost every day.
It was a great loss for me,
but even greater for Carlos.
He lived with Dad his whole life;
I just met him not too long ago.
On November 14 I got a phone call,
and it was my brother from the airport.
He was waiting for a flight,
which was headed toward Leon, Guanajuato.
I remember his departing words,
as if it were yesterday,
"I shared your special day;
thank you for sharing my pain."
He's not sure when he's coming back,
and I miss him a lot.
He's a very comprehensive brother;
without him I'll fall apart.
Wherever he is,
I want him to know,
that I love him with all my heart,
and he's in my thoughts wherever I go.