By LESLIE MOODY CASTRO
Our capacity to love is far more significant than anything we are capable of expressing in our lifetimes. It comforts me to know that our hearts are shared amongst so many others and that we all become responsible for sharing that love. I think comfort becomes a shared responsibility, a shared communication.
I don’t know how to talk about losing my uncle Milton. I haven’t been able to articulate it out loud, to form the vowels and consonants, or to put the words together into sentences and paragraphs. It feels impossible to speak about something that I still cannot believe is real, like attempting to describe a nightmare that should never exist, a rupture so deep and profound that it will forever alter the memories of every single family member and will forever become a defining moment of how we share all our stories for the rest of our lives.
From here on, time will always be the before versus the after. The before, when he was here joking, laughing, patrolling the community, and the after, when he just wasn’t here at all.
My uncle Milton was exceptional. He was flawed, funny, steadfast, kind, never judged, was always the first to tell us when we messed up, and always the first to forgive. He was stubborn and caring, unwavering, and loved us unconditionally, even if he could not admit it. He was always there. He showed up for every invitation, celebration, every loss and heartbreak; in the end, he also showed up for his city, his community, and his colleagues.
Want the story in its entirety? Pick up a copy of the San Benito News, or subscribe to our e-Edition by clicking HERE!