My brother-in-law passed away today at the young age of 72 after battling a brain tumor and many complications following surgery to remove it (to my knowledge).
Jose Vincente Perez Silva came from Bogota, Columbia, to the United States, Baltimore, to be exact, in the early 1970s as a sailor aboard the Columbian destroyer ARC 7 de Agosto.
One fateful night, my sister ventured out with her girlfriends for some drinks and laughs down to Cross Street, ending up at the old White Coffee Pot as many people did back in the day.
This young, clean-cut, handsome, young sailor in his white uniform approached her as she sat in a booth having that late breakfast and handed her a long-stemmed red rose and in Spanish, told her she was beautiful.
From there, their love story began. They became inseparable. She could barely speak Spanish, and he could barely speak English, but they learned from each other. They began spending as much time together as they could, along with her very young son, Fred, because they knew their time was limited as he would have to leave when the ship was ready to go.
I was pretty young, maybe 10 or 11 years old when their romance started, but Jose was wonderful. He treated her like a queen. Our family fell in love with him, too. He was friendly, helpful and best of all, he loved my sister and her son.
They wanted to get married and wrote many letters while he was back in Columbia. My sister learned to speak Spanish fluently, and he learned English. I would stay with her a lot to keep her company, and she’d read some of the letters to me. He would send her records from Colombia with songs for her, so we played those records.
This was our favorite.
https://youtu.be/olQzuhrdDoo?si=aVJW7-24r-Tt9YH5
Time to Love (Tiempo para amar)
I need time to love
Because by your side the world is beautiful.
I need a sun that shines brighter
And to know that you are not a dream.
I will forget my sad past
You will be my thought,
Bells of glory will ring
When I tell you how I feel.
How long I searched for you
I waited for you for a long time
And now that you are by my side
I live life.
My hope, my love, my faith
I lay them at your feet
Because in you love has been reborn,
Love.
Years will pass and it will be
Our love like spring,
A never-ending poem
And you will be happy even if you don’t want to.
How long I searched for you
I waited for you for a long time
And now that you are by my side
I live life.
My hope, my love, my faith
I lay them at your feet
Because in you love has been reborn,
Love.
Finally, I think two years later, he was out of the Navy and able to get a visa to come to America! They were finally able to get married and lived in my sister’s little row house on Jackson Street.
Let me tell you about this man…
He arrived in the USA with $13.00 in his pocket. My sister had been working part-time and full-time to make ends meet as a single mother, but he wasted no time getting on his feet so she could be a stay-at-home mom. He would never be supported by a woman. He was a traditional man with traditional values.
He started working at Tio Pepe’s restaurant as a waiter within two weeks of arriving here and often worked as many shifts as he could get.
Through working there, he made friends who encouraged him to go into construction. He did, and he became exceptional at concrete work, which became his lifelong career.
During this time, he spent every spare moment rehabbing my sister’s house, which was now their house. He turned that little shack into a beautiful, modern home. From there, the family grew, so they sold that little house and bought a beautiful home in Glen Burnie.
He went to school, worked hard, and after many years, that amazing day came when he was eligible to become an American citizen! He was so emotional and honored.
They took trips to Columbia together to see his family, and she embraced his culture completely as he embraced what it meant to be an American. He was also one hell of a great cook!
I could go on and on, but you get the idea.
When my sister Sheila got colon cancer, I’d never seen a man more distraught. He tried to hide it as most men do, but I could see it. We lost her on October 8, 2001.
After that, I didn’t see him a lot. We were friends on Facebook, and he dropped by my house one day, several years after my sister passed, and introduced me to his new wife. He introduced me as his sister. 
Anyone who knows me and who knows my sister can tell you she and I look remarkably alike. Although she was 12 years older than me, we were very close and, yes, we look very much alike.
The last time I saw Jose, he had dropped by my house a few years ago with a bottle of wine…the man knew how to pay a visit, and he hung out with Wayne and me, showing us photos of his home in Columbia, asking us how our kids and grandchildren were doing and we both said we needed to get together more. However, as I hugged him goodbye, he told me he was sorry for not being around much, but it was too hard to look at me and not think of Sheila. I told him I understood.
Che’la (Sheila) and Jose were the absolute loves of each other’s lives. They loved hard, fought hard with and for each other, raised three sons, and lived what many would call the American dream.
I know that when he got to heaven, she was waiting for him with open arms, a mariachi band, and ready to dance. Rest easy, Jose.
Author P.S. Bartlett 