I was downstairs last Sunday taking care of my little brother when my Uncle Humberto died. I think I was busy falling behind on purpose during a Mario Kart race when I heard my mom sobbing all of a sudden. It was Sunday afternoon, and what had been looming had finally struck. I told my brother to stay downstairs as I ran up to comfort her—she was crying into my sister's arms, and soon all of us formed a little pile trying to comfort her. This was a painful beginning of a week of loss.
On the heels of the funeral of iconic rocker Lemmy of Mötorhead, who died on December 28th, the world also lost Alan Rickman and David Bowie. The latter two, I can safely say, were crucial to my development — I have fond memories of waving around Snape's wand after buying it at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter World and yelling the lyrics to "Heroes" on the highway as my friends and I drove top-down to the beach.
I'm saddened by the fact that I don't have a lot of memories of my uncle — the only thing that really stuck in my mind the last time I saw him was his laugh. Boisterous, incandescent, infectious: a happy man's laugh. It's been years since I saw him, and I think I'm okay with the fact that this is what I remember about him.
Speaking from the perspective of someone who is (thankfully) only now starting to experience death hitting me personally,I've noticed that when our loved ones pass away, we lose someone we grew with, and someone who watched us grow up. When an artist that we used to binge-listen to is suddenly no longer able to make music, when an actor we like seeing on our screens is 6 feet under, it's a different mourning. We mourn our childhoods, and someone who indirectly became a part of them. We are as influenced by the art we intake as we are by the family who is with us when we're drawing lightning scars on our faces, or dressing in all black and yelling out spells to no avail.
If you believe in that kind of thing, I'd like to blame all of this on Mercury being in Retrograde. If you don't, I don't suppose one should look for explanations other than cancer f*cking sucks, and in the end we all end up in the same place. Until then, let's celebrate our heroes: go to your local bar and order a Lemmy. Rewatch all the "Harry Potter" movies until you can recite them by heart. Blast "Life on Mars?" down the highway as you drive to the beach. Sit down with your mom and tell stories about your extended family.
Do whatever you have to do, but when you lose someone that means something to you, keep their memory alive, and through you, they live forever.
Descansa en páz, Tío.
