Joey
He was brother #3. The most like our dad. The one who didn’t need to be asked, he would just do. In search of a better life for his family, he went to the Middle East and worked his way up from a merchandiser to a sales manager. We saw him during holidays and he was always so happy to be home. He crammed into the few weeks of his stay what he missed throughout the year. Most of it spending time with his kids to make up for lost time.
Two weeks ago, he suffered what the doctors thought was a mild stroke. They kept him under sedation throughout the treatment. He never regained consciousness. He died peacefully last Monday. My only comfort was that while I was on the phone grieving with his wife, I could hear people crying in the background. His friends who had become his family in our absence. We may not have been with him in his time of need but he was not alone.
He was going to be 41 next month. Too young. He left behind 3 children.
I thought I was strong. That I could handle pain and grief. But not this kind. My husband has been a pillar of strength for me. He let me weep…and weep I did. I wept for my nephews and nieces who will now only remember their father from memory. I wept for my brothers who lost one of their best friends. And most of all, I wept for my dad for a parent does not expect to outlive his child.
For now, we await his final homecoming. To be surrounded by family once again. For good.
We love you, Joey.
