Tears rolled down the crowd’s faces as the mariachi band and folkloric dancers performed. It was the most beautiful funeral I had ever been to.
My Tio David had always been a jokester; he would light up the room when he walked in, he could make anyone smile, he was so alive. He came to every party, every performance, every birthday, he was always there. I never imagined one day he wouldn’t.
It was Sunday, Sept. 28, 2025 when he died. It came as a surprise to everyone, even the doctors said he would make it through the night. The meningitis spread so fast no one had time to even consider the fact that he may die.
I was asleep when it happened. I woke up to my sister handing me her phone. My mom was on facetime crying.
“Tio David died,” my mom said.
She turned the camera to show him in his bed. He looked like he was sleeping, not dead. I didn’t believe it, he wasn’t dead, he couldn’t be. I watched and waited for him to open his eyes and jump out of bed yelling “Just kidding! I’m alive!” but he never did.
After I finally accepted the fact that he was gone, I broke. I cried myself back to sleep, woke up a couple hours later and then cried myself to sleep again. I did this repeatedly for hours. I finally forced myself to stop at 2 p.m. I didn’t go to work, I didn’t even call in. I knew I would get in trouble but I didn’t care. My favorite Tio just died. Why would I go to work?
My family helped my Tia get money for his funeral and helped her set a day for the funeral. My cousins from Florida even planned to fly down for his burial. It would be the first time in years the whole family would be together, except it wasn’t the whole family.
We tried to get an emergency visa set in place so his family from Mexico could attend his funeral but it was taking too long and we didn’t want Tio to spend anymore time in the morgue.
Oct. 3 was the viewing; it was busy and crowded. There was a line across the building of people waiting to say goodbye to their sweet friend. I didn’t really get a chance to say the final goodbye that I wanted to because there were so many people there. Luckily there was going to be a private, family-only viewing at the viewing the next day. Everyone gathered around a small TV with a slideshow of pictures of him. I watched the entire slideshow three times.
It was raining the day of the funeral. I got up early to get ready. I wore my blue dress David had brought me back from Mexico the year before. The church was silent and empty when we got there. The whole family gathered in a small room where the final viewing was set up. I was scared to go up and say my last goodbye, I didn’t want it to be the last goodbye, I didn’t want him to be gone for good. Finally, I got up the courage to do it. Even in death, he looked so alive.
After two hours it was time to close the casket for the last time. I watched his face as they closed the casket. When I could no longer see his face, I started to cry. I would never see my Tio ever again.
My cousin gave a beautiful talk about my Tio during his services. He talked about how religious my Tio was and how he knew one day he would be able to see his dad again. I realized he was right, David wasn’t gone forever, he was in my memories and the stories we told about him. That made me feel a little bit better.
It was still raining when we got to the cemetery, there was a small tent set up in the grass. They put his casket under the tent and waited for everyone to arrive. I was confused because there were no graves where the tent was set up. As I was looking around to try to find his burial sight a van full of mariachi men pulled up. They all got out one by one and set up their instruments. Soon after, ballet folklorico dancers showed up and started to practice.
My Tio was a folkloric dance teacher. He owned a studio and taught people the beauty of Latin dance. All of his children were involved in the dance. My cousins Millie, Addy, Issias, and Lamoni were all part of the dancers as well.
Everyone waited patiently under the tent for the performance to start. Once the music started to play, the dancers began to dance. Tears rolled down my cousin’s face as they danced. It was beautiful and I knew this was exactly how my Tio would have wanted his funeral to be.
After they put his casket in the grave, we all traveled back to the church for lunch. At lunch, there were many more performances. There were Polynesian dancers who did their native dance and singers who sang about life and remembering. I had never cried so much in my life. I missed my Tio so much and I could feel him with me. I knew he was happy for the way his funeral turned out.
I had never been to a funeral where they had a band and performers before, and it sounds like it would be disrespectful but it was the most beautiful funeral I had ever been to. I felt like instead of mourning his death, we celebrated his life.
