He was a brother an uncle a son a father and a friend. He was someone whom I looked up to, someone whom I seek for help. He was someone who loved his family above anything else. He was my father figure, my light. He cried, I cried. He laughed, I laughed. He left, I stayed, I wish I could have followed him. Haunted by secrets for which he could not speak of that led to his death. He’s an angel now watching over us. He was good but he was bad when needed to. Burned alive screaming in pain for help was not planned. Crying doesn’t help but it heals the wound that we will not see him again. He may be gone but never forgotten. In our hearts forever he will remain. In the day he was filled with joy never a frown on his pale face. He is kind and loving. He would have been a great father. My memories of him are tinted with his smile. He loved cars, especially his own. He was the youngest out of 5 children yet the first one gone. I can remember him giving me money for candy, and to make sure to get him some because he too also had a sweet tooth. I can remember him teaching me how to ride a bike for the first time. He never gave up on me. He loved swimming, he loved the beach, but no matter how long he stayed out under the sun he remain pale just like me. He loved food, especially his mother’s lasagna. He never had the chance to meet his son, taken out of this world too soon, right before our eye, but if I were to speak to him again I would assure him that he would have been a proud father of an MVP baseball player.