My brother was born 1 1/2 years after I did. From a young age he was mischievous and very inquisitive - in simpler terms he was trouble! He was also amazingly good in math. Although I was older, he always had the upper hand when it came to harassing his sister - handed me small tree frogs in lieu of pretty stones; hit behind bushes to startle me and so on. I could seldom have peace if he was around.
When we buried our Mom he was 11 years old. The image of him crying has been etched on my mind for years. That day the fire in his eyes dimmed and he turned reserved and quiet. After decades of being apart, he came to the United States during the Mariel Lift. My husband and I were able to give him and his young family a home for several months until he settled in his new country. His arrival also gave our little sister and me the chance to reacquaint with him. Slowly, he gained his footing and soon the “niño travieso” started to emerged.
Churchy’s sense of humor is known by everyone. The warmth he demonstrated, particularly during the last 10 years, was like a soft blanket. I watched with joy how he evolved into a man who was no longer afraid to say “te quiero” or hug you tight.
While I write this, I’m angry that he could not live another decade to offset the unkind years. Then, after I shed a few tears, I assess his life in a new light. I realize that although he died too young, he left behind daughters who adored him, sisters who cherished his company and a partner who cared for him and taught him to show emotions he had buried deep inside. He also left a long list of family and friends who gravitated towards him like moths to a flame.
My brother was a great man. Despite, the challenges he faced in his youth, he worked hard and achieved success in his personal life, as well as, in his business life. It brings me comfort knowing that he was loved and that our Mother will show him the way. I will miss him. I know we will meet again until then dear Chuchy, rest peacefully!
