“A Personal Narrative”

by Adilene Patino

“Why did this have to happen,” were the first thoughts that crossed my mind. It was just so sudden and unexpected. I wish I could go back in time and change everything. There were so many things we could’ve done to prevent this. The thought of him always brings back painful memories.

It was a typical school day on September 1st, 2011. The sun was shining bright and it was burning hot. My second grade nephew and I had just gotten off the bus and were walking home. After five minutes of walking, we finally arrived at the front door of my house. As I reached out to push open the front door, I noticed it was quiet. My house was never quiet. A few steps later my mom gave me the bad news.

“They killed your Tio Pedro,” she said with tears in the corner of her eyes as soon as she saw me. Even though it was my dad’s brother, my mom had grown up with him so it hurt her as much as it hurt him. The only difference was that he didn’t show it.

“What do you mean… how? When? Why?” I was too shocked to even know what to say. Surprisingly, I didn’t feel the urge to cry. I knew he was fine, or at least I thought he was.

“Apparently, they robbed the tire shop yesterday. They found him floating in a canal this morning. The police said he had been there for a while,” my mom explained. The tire shop belonged to my dad, my uncle just worked and lived there. Still in shock, I avoided further questions and went up to my room. I packed my bags to leave to Mexico in a few hours.

When we made it to my grandma’s house, majority of my family was waiting inside. They were still waiting for my grandma to return from San Diego where she had gone to visit my aunt. She still didn’t know. Moments passed by and we were still waiting. My cousins, my brother and I were almost falling when they came through the door. It was 1 o’clock in the morning and we all managed to wake ourselves up. My others uncles had called my grandmas pastor to tell her and give her spiritual comfort. The moment we all hoped never came was here. The pastor sat her down and kneeled down beside her. We all gathered around my grandma waiting for him to rip off the bandage.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” she asked desperately wanting answers.

“I’m sorry to tell you that Pedro has passed away,” the pastor hugged her and gave her a few words of wisdom, comfort and hope.

“No! This can’t be! I just saw him a few days ago,” my grandma whispered as she burst into tears. My heart broke. It felt like someone ripped it out and stomped on it many, many times. I would have rather had that happen than see my grandma like this. It was too painful.

The next day, I spent most the morning in the police station where the police talked to my dad, my grandma, my uncle about the guy that caused all of this. That’s where we found out what really happened. He was tied up, stabbed in the cheek with a screwdriver, beat up, carried onto a truck and dumped in the canal. The worst part is that the guy who did this was supposed to be his friend. After the police station, my dad, along with my grandma and my uncle’s wife, had to go to the funeral home to identify the body. My grandma was stubborn enough to go in and see him but she couldn’t handle it. A little part of me was convinced it wasn’t him. I was hoping the body just looked a lot like my uncle, but it was him. My uncle was really gone.

Later that day we attended his memorial. That’s when I saw him. He was just lying there; defenseless. I didn’t stay there all night but I came back early in the morning when it was time to say goodbye. At about four in the afternoon, the ceremony began. That’s where I finally broke down. I couldn’t stay strong anymore. It finally hit me that that would be the last time I saw him. When the ceremony was over, I left with my mom and her sister to escort my uncle. When we got to the cemetery, the band that was hired sang “un dia al a vez” to say our last goodbyes. Then he was lowered six feet underground.

I still wonder why this had to happen. It’ll be two years since he died next month and I still can’t get over it. I’m not angry or sad anymore because I know he’s in a better place. I realized that I have to live my life on day at a time and appreciate the little things because I don’t know where my future will take me. I’ll always think of him when I listen to “un dia a la vez.” He’ll be in my heart forever.