The morning of Saturday, just over two years, a vallenato song woke us all up. My brothers and my mom got up to discover a late-model car parked in front, with the doors open to let conveniently sprout Villazón's voice and accordion of Lallemand. It was his most recent album, and although I decided to stay in bed [the sheets at 4:30 am with a special holding power], I could not ignore the good songs, and the certainty that someone had come to rest drinks on the terrace of our house.
Now, no other vallenato album makes me sad more than The Power of Love, and in particular the songs The and Caramelito Whenever I , were the most repeated Jader that morning, while his boss, beaten , drunken sleep in the back of the car and put him with the power of sincerity that gives the alcohol, he advised my brothers, my mom commented to the wanderings of my stepfather [her father] and offered to help with a job at the university where he held a good administrative fee. Luck was smiling at him from doing a good time. They used
confused as brothers, since the majority of people had a strong resemblance, both physically and how to act. I never told, but I liked this misunderstanding, feel my blood brother, he was a man quite mature for his age [was two years younger than me] and I knew what I wanted and how to get it, qualities of a strong character and honest. That strength led us to face more than once, children or adults, when we played football when competed in bicycle or motorcycle trick that [do you remember, old man?] ... but there was always someone ready to stop we came to blows, and after reconciled laughed at such nonsense, between beer and beer, with the voice Poncho background, which is the best liniment and most of all ...
abetting Jader
was killed in one of those mornings of drinks, in the same car and also with his boss, when, according to the official version, the ate a curve at nearly 200 mph, while returning Sincelejo, where he was to work the next day [unofficial version says other things, of which I hope his boss, truck driver and miraculous survivor, has a clear conscience]. Since then, July is synonymous with pain for our family.
I started writing this obituary while notes Caramelito flowed from the stereo. And the lump in my throat confused with the cold that morning, and through the eyes moist inevitably I see me sitting on the terrace of my house with the words camisilla pasty white and the rum, and while my brother sings the lyrics on par with Villazón, once again I hurt all the time we lost everything that we do not live, and all the things we left unsaid. And
Despite the lateness of this note, I know I know, old Jade, now and always remember you, my brother ...
