01 May Uncle Pleisan

Uncle Pleisan had a curious, unusual name, a soul that was always young. He looked like "pleasant", an English name that means "pleasant".
In 2008, a few days before we moved to the new apartment, he and Aunt Elci came to spend a few days with us.
While wrapping the dishes in the newspaper she said:
-We only mourn if we go to a worse place, not to a better place.
The big living room smelled goodbye, the old furniture and the wooden shelves already smelled
 musty.
I remember him happily washing Dad's car. I and Aunt Elci sat on the porch, watching him. 
She smiled at him as if it were the first time she saw him.
He had firm, expressive gestures, a welcoming voice.
He always cheered for us. He was happy with our victories. He was excited about our achievements.
It is the personification of the biblical passage: "love is patient, love is kind. 
Do not envy, do not boast, do not be proud".
The last time I saw him he said:
-Clarissa, my daughter, you didn't tell me you got a new car.
His voice was always “Bahia way ”. A sung affection, 
coming and going like the sea waves of the city that welcomed him.
 I thought it was comical the way he always hated Salvador's carnival.
I remember him lovingly fixing Dad's CDs in his new apartment. He marveled at everything.
He was an army dentist. But he was too sensitive for that job.
 He should have been a musician, a dreamer and a fan of the way he was.
For your joy of living, humor, good times lived, our thanks.
Perhaps this simple "thank you" will never be enough. It was an imperfect farewell, 
in the middle of a pandemic, just like life itself, which lived intensely.
I miss you already.