Josh: A Tale of Love and Loss

In a somber reflection on an incident that transpired on Mother's Day in 2012, my brother was tragically taken from our midst during a shooting incident in the city of Chicago. Unfortunately, he found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

My brother was a remarkable individual, characterized by his innate kindness. This assessment isn't simply due to the familial bond we shared; it's an undeniable truth. He placed an unwavering trust in people, even those with dubious backgrounds, solely because he had known them since childhood. These were individuals with whom he had a history and their hearts.

His work ethic was formidable from a young age. Opting to remain in Chicago, he toiled diligently while my sisters, mother, and I relocated to Puerto Rico. Regrettably, my mother carries the weight of not compelling him to join us to this day; a decision she now deeply laments.

My brother had a remarkable sense of humor; he used to put on a Muppet shows for me during my childhood. Those memories, although somewhat hazy, remain etched in my mind. He was a perpetual prankster, a master of humor, and the one who adopted the nickname "Goofy". It's astounding how those who radiate love and laughter often find themselves deceived. He bore a streak of ill luck in his romantic pursuits, with partners who consistently broke his heart or betrayed his trust. Moreover, he had experienced the heart-wrenching loss of a 3 month old baby, his only son, whom he found lifeless in his crib upon returning from work.

I often wish I had been old enough at the time to tell him that he was perfect just as he was. He grappled with low self-esteem, citing his height and perceived flaws in his teeth. If only he could have recognized the beautiful person he was both inside and out. My brother and I shared a significant age gap of 13 years, rendering me a mere infant when he was still present.

One of the most profound sources of pain stems from the scarcity of memories with him due to my tender age. I was only six, when we made the move to Puerto Rico while he remained in Chicago. Consequently, I grew up without the privilege of forging lasting memories with my only brother.

He was taken from us at the age of 36, with his birthday just around the corner, scheduled for June 10. It strikes me profoundly that, as of 2024, I will be the same age he was when he left us.

The stark reality that I won't be able to grow old with him, as siblings should, remains an unbearable and unjust truth.

In conclusion, my brother's story is a touching reminder of love and loss. It shows us how life can change suddenly. He was a kind and funny person who continues to inspire us.

As we remember the good times with him and the laughter he brought, we're reminded to appreciate our loved ones and cherish the moments we have. Even though he's not with us, his impact remains. It's a sign that love is strong, lasting beyond time and reminding us to treasure our family and make the most of every day.

If only I knew this was going to be the last message, I would had answered. One of the many regrets in life.