Not remembering his face is the easiest part, and the hardest one to face, I guess it’s easier that way, my mom tells me how you treated her, and how you did nothing when you’re sisters accused my mom of sleeping with another man, you knew the facts and yet you did nothing to help her, and how the time when we came to the U.S and you stayed in Mexico to be with you’re family, I guess we weren’t important enough, well what do you know just a couple of years took for you to get you’re self killed what you supposably called family didn’t even bother to look for you, they didn’t care, unlike my mom who was on the other side of the border that wanted to go to you’re grave but couldn’t leave me alone 4years old, I was the only important thing she had in her mind, you thought she was going to be alone for the rest of her life, NO!!, she found the man today I am proud to call dad, he has done more for me than you and all of you’re family members have done for me, I can hardly remember your name, but his is in my mind twenty four seven, Manuel Mendoza is the man I grew learning to love, being there for me when I needed him the most, one day that I got in trouble he talked to me and said “everyone makes mistakes I know you’re not perfect but strive for you’re goal don’t think that when I tell you to do good in school is for me no, it’s for you and you only because I care about you and I wish life can give me all the years it can to see you succeed, I love you mijo” I will fight for this man, my dad..