Will there be an answer?

Tenho tanto pra te dizer. Mas tão pouco. Não posso nem dizer que mal te conheço, porque a verdade é que nada te conheço. Sei de uma história resumida da sua vida, de uma carta compreendida do inglês, que não foi dirigida a mim. Sei um pouco das suas dúvidas, suas preocupações. Sei também que muito da solução disso se perdeu, se é que você já não desistiu. Você tem um rosto que eu conheço muito bem. E nada tenho a lhe dizer. Destruir um pouco de uma esperança que sobrou em descobrir mais sobre suas origens? Quem sabe. Sei o que preciso lhe dizer. Mas não sei bem por que faço tanta questão disso. Eu preciso, só sei que preciso. Nem bem sei compor as palavras, mas queria que elas chegassem até você. Não sei bem pra quê. Eu tenho um rascunho. É mais ou menos como:

Sorry about bothering you like this, but I needed to get in touch with you. You don’t know me, but I know you. I’m your niece. I don’t know how much you’ve spoke to him and I’m not sure why I’m doing this. But I needed to. After a few months of an illness, your father has died. He had a pretty great life and I think it couldn’t have been more amazing. I’m not sure about what do you know, but here’s a little of what I know. He was the sweetest grandpa: gentle, wise and even handsome. Full of life, he never stopped walking around our little city, for doing whatever he wanted. He never stopped reading. He never stopped being the great man he is; I think he hadn’t stopped it yet. Now I’m trying to publish his poems. I hope you still understand some Portuguese, so I can send it to you. I don’t think this information will help you, but he never got bald. He never got exactly old. Sometimes he was younger than me. The last months were kind of sad. I can’t say of what he died, because I don’t know it. At first, it was flu. But suddenly, he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t breath, he couldn’t go to the bathroom or take showers by himself. It had no name. When the person is about eighty five years old, doctors don’t tell the family it’s a specific disease. They just let us know it’s time for them to go, or we get it by ourselves. We were just left to accept it. I still haven’t. Maybe I’ll never. I can understand, live with it, but I’ll never stop missing him. I don’t know why you went away or if this is bothering you, but if you had stood here, you would know how wonderful he is. We would have got to know each other. I love my family and maybe that’s why I’m writing you this. I don’t know you, I never saw you and probably never will, but you’re part of my family. Part of my grandpa, who I really love! I found so much in me that looks exactly like him. Not just the poetry, that we had the joy of sharing while he was here, but drawings, philosophy, thoughts, wishes, books. Some of my world was in him. Maybe that’s why, somehow, I feel so close to you. Maybe that’s why I need to tell you this: he’s gone, but I’m here.