Hi babies, in light of yesterday, April 4, 2024, being the 31st anniversary of my brother’s death, I decided to write to you about your Tio George. Who he was, how he died, what he meant to me, and what his loss did to our family. My brother was the best big brother. He was 12 when I was born and your Tias Jennie and Jackie were 6 and 7 years old. I was told that on the day Grandma Margie was in the hospital giving birth, he tried to get the other girls ready for school and comb their hair (it was a nice attempt haha). He was a true big brother. Never was mean to me, always brought me surprises, always spoiled me with love. He was Grandpa Papi’s firstborn from a previous marriage but he was mostly raised by my mom. He didn’t have the best childhood with his biological mom and he eventually fell into the gang crowd that was popular in the 90s.
I was eight years old when he died but I only have certain memories of him. I remember the day he dropped off a gift for me and told me not to open it until I went inside. As he was pulling out of the driveway a kitten popped his head out of the bag. My first pet. I remember when we went for a ride in his first car and when he got his first apartment. Grandma Margie and I went to see it and he pulled Grandma into the kitchen and showed her that he bought a gun for protection. He moved into a very rough side of San Antonio and he was running with the wrong crowd. I remember him explaining to Grandma that he just wanted to protect himself. He wasn’t a criminal or a gang banger. He was trying to find his way to being his own man, and like so many young men at that time, he was struggling.
He was 20 years old when he went with his friend walking to the store on April 4th, 1993. The truth is I’ve never made it a point to find out what happened. All I know is that they were chased and gunned down and he was hit. He kept running and finally collapsed in someone’s yard. He was transported to the hospital but died on the table. And from that point on, nothing was ever the same. His death changed the fate and path of our entire family.
My brother’s passing left a big gaping hole in our family. Grandpa Papi left the family, he ended up losing himself and going down the wrong path and went to jail for smuggling drugs for some dangerous people in his Taxi. After that, he had to get out of the military after over 40 years of service. That affected me so much as a young girl. His murder also left my family with a lot of anger inside of them. To this day his murder was never solved and that has left so many questions unanswered. Without our big brother there my sisters got lost as well. Jennie had and still has so much built-up anger. Grandma Margie became depressed and never had the same light in her eyes after that. Everyone lost their way and I was only eight so I was just looking up at all of them and wondering what was happening to my family. I was watching everything completely unravel. As I grew up it was becoming more and more evident that I was not like the rest of my family Maybe because I was too young to truly feel his death, I didn’t have the same unresolved issues that had. I didn’t need the closure they needed. I excelled in school and had big dreams. But after Grandpa Papi left we didn’t have security or stability. We were in survival mode. Grandma did the best she could mostly raising me on her own. And my dad was out wandering, looking for love and answers and revenge. I once heard him say, “I had one son and three daughters and God had to take my only son.” That sentence has stuck in my mind for years because it has helped me understand why I could never gain my father’s acceptance. I never felt like he wanted me after that. Those abandonment issues shaped a lot of decisions I have made in life and have impacted the way I cope with situations. I remember so many times waiting for him by the window and he would never show. He got sidetracked by a woman or handling business with friends. Being an adult now, I understand he was trying to cope as best as he could. I understand he was carrying around so much guilt and anger and anguish and it left no room for me.
I chose this to be my first open letter to you because, for me, this is where my world changed. This is the first, in a series of life events, that changed the trajectory of my life. I know with all of my heart that if my brother George were still alive my family would not be what it is now. I would not have the weight of trying to be the peacemaker and make family gatherings happen. I would have had a man to look up to, to protect me, to show me how I should be treated. And I probably wouldn’t have had you four monkeys! That ended up being the biggest blessing in this version of my life and I would never change that. You four are my reason for still trying to work on myself. This year I also decided to look into his homicide case and get the full story. I feel like now I am at the point in my life where I do need answers. And although I know you will hear most of my family saying that the day they find his killer they hope he dies in prison and rots in hell. But I know you know that is not how your mom operates. I don’t believe in revenge and I never want you all to either. In my head, I have to tell myself that the person who pulled the trigger was also a lost young man trying to find his way. I have to tell myself that they have regretted it every single day of their life since. I have to imagine that the burden of living with that secret for 31 years has been so heavy already. I hope that that man is a good man, with a family, and is a great member of society. I have to hope that he made something of himself. And I know most people don’t think that way because your Tio George got that chance taken from him. But the world is already hard enough as it is my babies. People deserve forgiveness and redemption. They are not always equal to the worst moment or mistake in their life. All of us deserve compassion and grace. And I hope that I have done my job to instill that in you. I love you always my babies!
Love, Mom