"In Memory of Uncle Hector"

[For homework in her language and literature class, Adelina D. Marquez decided to write about her “Uncle Hector”]

Dear Mr. Winning,

I was thinking really hard about what to write for my personal narrative this time around. I started to think that maybe I could write a story because I have not done that yet, but I could not think of a good story line. So I then started to think about what else I could do and thought that maybe I could write about Disneyland. Although, as the days were coming and going so quickly, I still had not written anything on my subject. As time was passing, I started to get very overwhelmed with all my schoolwork, drama at school and with friends, and then problems I was having at home, but the biggest thing on my mind was my uncle Hector. I have therefore decided to write about him and his story.

My uncle Hector was my step-dad’s best friend. He was 54 years old but never ever seemed to be that young; he was always full of life! Now, you must understand that he was not really my uncle, but I knew him since I was little, loved him as an uncle, and just called him my uncle because it came so naturally to me. Calling him “Hector” just never seemed right to me. My uncle Hector was a great man. He was a professor at UNM, and taught literary theory, linguistics, and Chicano/a studies. I would see my uncle Hector pretty often. In fact, once he even came to stay with my family while he was in the process of moving. We had a lot of fun that week or so, hanging out and talking about everything that came to mind.

My uncle Hector would fit in with everyone. What I mean by this is that when he was with my brother and I, he was just like another kid hanging out with us. Or he was an adult chit chatting with our parents; a very educated person with smart people; or a killer basketball player on the court; wherever he was he would fit in with everyone! It always seemed he fit perfectly with whomever. My uncle Hector would treat everyone nicely and with respect. He never looked down on people, made them feel stupid or feel like they were out of place. He was a very peaceful man, and I never once saw him loose his temper or get angry about something. My uncle Hector had a huge heart, a great personality, and an amazing smile that would spread cheer to everyone in his path.

The last time he visited my house he brought his new girlfriend. Her name was Stefania Gray. I liked Stefania very much, though I did not get to know her very well; still, my uncle seemed very happy to be with her so that made me happy. My uncle Hector seemed to like her very much. In fact, he had just met her two girls who were twelve and fifteen. It seemed like having her meet my parents, brother and I was the equivalent of having him meet her kids. After we finished eating dinner, chicken molé, my brother and I left to let the adults visit. I would still come back to get snacks, dessert, and all that fun stuff. When I was getting dessert, we all talked about having my brother and I meet Stefania’s daughters since they were about my age. Her daughters sounded very interesting, and I wanted very much to meet them. I was pretty excited. That was the last time either of them will be in my home in their human bodies.

March eighth 2010. That has to be one of the two saddest days of my life. (The other being when my great grandma died). I completely broke that day in a way I didn’t think that I could ever be broken. My heart got broken, ripped out of my chest, and stomped on. With no heart, I was dead inside, dead and depressed. That day my uncle Hector’s and Stefania’s bodies were found. Stefania’s ex-boyfriend supposedly broke into my uncle Hector’s house and shot them both, killing them. He did this on the 7th of March but they weren’t found until a day later. Now, the sad thing about this is that he had been out of jail on bond when he killed them. He was in jail because he had attacked Stefania, tackled her to the ground, and started to hit her in the ribs, back, and pulled her hair. (That is according to the police report that she filed). He also pulled out a knife on her and said that he had a gun. In the end, the police report says that my uncle Hector was able to “talk to the man, calm him down, had him commence in ‘prayer’ with and had him leave peacefully.” This can prove my point that my uncle Hector was not a violent man at all but was peaceful and kind even to a man whom was beating up his girlfriend. I think that it was his personality that saved their lives once. After this incident Stefania and my uncle Hector pulled out a restraining order, yet this man was still able to kill my uncle Hector and Stefania, and on bond for a previous assault against them.

As you might be able to imagine this event has affected me greatly. I could not stop crying and it all felt so unreal. It felt like I was in an episode of CSI Miami and I kept thinking that soon it would be over, I could get to my normal life and be happy again. Except that it was real: I could never have the same life and was not going to be truly happy for a long time. I will never be able to see my uncle Hector again.

He was always there for my birthday party spoiling me with gifts wrapped in a plastic bag from a store. I learned later, from the eulogy my step-dad delivered at the funeral, that my step-dad had told my uncle Hector once, “Torres, don’t spoil the kids so much.” My uncle replied, “I can’t help it, man, I love those kids.” I read the eulogy a few times, and each time that I read that line proclaiming my uncle Hector’s love for us, I cried. Today I went back to the news reports about the double-murder. I think that looking at the news reports and articles written about the murder makes my mind process it a little bit better. Lately, my uncle Hector has been visiting me in my dreams, and although they scared me at first, I now realize that he was coming back to remind me not to forget him.

For my recent birthday, when I was listing who I wanted to invite, I had to remind myself time and time again that I could not invite my uncle Hector because he is no longer on earth. Of course, I know he will always be with me in my heart. He will be there to help heal my heart and help get me through life, which I have learned in my first 14 years of living it that life can be very, very hard. On a bad week, the fact that he is gone can make me very sad and I can get annoyed, ticked off, and saddened very quickly. My mind hasn’t fully processed the fact that my uncle has been killed and is no longer here, so on my bad weeks I can get very emotional. On a good day a little like today I can be able to think about him without getting too sad. I think that sharing my uncle’s story has helped me release all the emotional strain that has been overwhelming me for almost a year now but that it will also help me never to forget.