The last time I saw him, he was only five years old.
He was only five years old, and we played tons of video games. Nintendo at his house, Sega at ours.
We’d give him and his three siblings our old clothes and chase each other around the house.
We’d pile up into the car going to Jamestown and other such places. We’d laugh and giggle and stare at the cars following behind us.
Then we moved away. Again and again and again. There was a space of well over ten years.
He and his closest brother ended up joining the Air Force. I was so proud of them. He worked his way through the ranks picking up languages along the way. Chinese was his specialty.
Mechanics was his love. He was a good uncle to his brothers’ children. He was an outstanding grandson to his elderly abuela.
He was crazy like the rest of us.
He was the fifth death I’ve had to suffer this year.
There is no amount of verbiage in any tongue that can begin to describe the love felt by a family far-flung. Our massive family shared a communal quake, and we grieve all over the world. But in the end, I think he had one last thing to say to those who loved and knew him best.