HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHAVA! GOD, I MISS YOU!!!

I’m about to blog about a very sensitive topic and for my family members who read this, I don’t mean for this to make you cry. I’m choking back tears as I begin to write this, so I know that this might emotionally affect you. I just want to recognize our late brother on his birthday because even though he’s not with us anymore, he is always (AND I MEAN ALWAYS) in our hearts.

To those of you who knew my brother, you simply knew him as Chava. Chava was his nickname but his real birth name was Salvador Lua. We, his family and close friends, never really called him Salvador because his nickname stuck to him very early on. There are just so many wonderful things I could say about Chava. He was a brother, a friend, a son, and a father. There isn’t enough space on this blog to say what I would really love to say about Chava, so I will have to shorten it up and hope to get the message across on how much we still love and miss him everyday.

Let me begin by saying that today Chava would have been 43 years old. I can just imagine what it would be like with him here today! The one thing that I can’t get out of my head if he was still here, is how much of a great father he would be to his daughter Miniquis.

Everyone in my family, distant or close relative, has a special place in my heart. But Chava won a solid spot in the center of my heart when our father died. When our father died, my mom was left with three young kids left in the house. It was my brother Edgar 13, myself 11, and my youngest sister Vanessa 7. Chava stepped in right away to help my mother. He became the father figure in our lives and never made us feel like we were missing that person. He taught me how to wire Christmas lights together, put up mini blinds in mom’s house, how to properly clean my huge fish tank he gave me, mow the lawn, check the oil in my first crappy car, and an array of things any father would teach his daughter. He yelled at me when I got in trouble, rewarded me when I did good, but most importantly, he loved me. He loved everyone in his family and you could see how proud he was to be with us. He was always there at every family birthday and made us feel complete after suffering the death of our father Rafael Lua.

When I finished high school (and this is the part that makes me cry) I came to this realization that he didn’t have to do all these things for me, my brother, and youngest sister. He didn’t have to be there for us the way he was. So after my high school graduation, I had decided to write a letter of appreciation to him thanking him for being there for us. I wrote that letter along with a few others to members of my family thanking them for being there for me during my journey in high school. But Chava’s letter was a bit deeper because of his effort to give us that father figure we lost. In that letter, I really wanted to make sure he knew how much I loved him and thanked him for being there. Three months later, he died.

Chava’s death was such a shock to everyone. I still remember that phone call from Poncho (My sister Mary’s husband). It was a Sunday afternoon September 23rd, 2001. I was painting my toenails in my bedroom when Poncho called asking for my mom. I didn’t think anything serious because he sounded casual on the phone, but when my mom hung up, she ran to her car. Her action alone gave me chills. Later on that day, we had all gathered at his house. I remember it was at his temporary house because he and his wife had just bought land and were constructing a new one so they were staying at a temporary home. I didn’t get to see him. I don’t think anyone else did. Almost everyone was outside in the front yard waiting to see what happened. I was sitting in the living room with my mom and sister Rosa when the paramedics brought him out in a gurney from the bathroom where he had fainted. The feeling one gets when seeing a loved one in a gurney is completely indescribable. All I remember is making this loud noise. It wasn’t like a normal cry, but a painful noise coming out of me. I shut my eyes and my sister Rosa grabbed my head and pulled me into her chest. I think I only caught two seconds of him on that gurney out of the 15 it took the paramedics to get him out of the house. I couldn't look any longer. I heard that same painful noise come out of the rest of my family members outside in the yard when they wheeled him into the ambulance.

This was the first I had heard of brain aneurisms. It took my brother’s life away.

Grieving for Chava was such a long road for everyone. I think some of us are still on that road. I remember not wanting to go to his wake because of the last memory I had of my dad. The last time I saw my dad was in his casket. I didn’t want to see Chava like that. I came really close to telling my sister Mary that I didn’t want to go, but I chickened out. I thought it would have been very selfish of me if I didn’t go and everyone else had to. Now, I remember him in his blue hat. So many people showed up at his memorial service. Old friends, new friends, old ladies who he fixed air conditioners for. After his funeral, I really saw my family fall apart. I remember seeing my sister Rosa crying in my brother Edgar’s room. The door was partly open and I could see her hands over her face crying nonstop while her husband comforted her. I remember the first Christmas without him. It felt like we tried too hard to celebrate the holiday but we couldn’t. We tried to take pictures, but there were too many tears in the photos. I still have that picture. Mary, Lupe, Rosa, Carmen and I all filled with tears in our eyes. Later on that night, I remember looking for my brother Edgar and finding him by himself crying leaning on a car down the street. I had never seen my brother Edgar cry, and seeing him like that just broke my heart. But most of all, I really saw my mom fall apart. Not too long ago I heard her talking to a friend on the topic of losing family members and I remember her saying “La muerte de mi esposo me dolio mucho, pero la muerte de mi hijo…” (The death of my husband hurt me so much, but the death of my son…) I didn’t hear her finish the sentence.

The date of his death is debatable. My mom says that she counts it the day he fainted which was on September 23, 2001 but he officially died in San Diego Scripps hospital September 24, 2001. Either way, we lost one hell of a person. I miss his trademark keys he always carried. Whenever you hear keys clinging, you can bet that it was him coming down. One of my funniest memories of him was when he was looking at a photo that was taken of Johana (My sister Rosa’s daughter) and me on a roller coaster at Knots Berry Farm. I hung the photo in my room and when he came in to say “hi” he saw the photo and could not stop laughing. Right next to that photo was one of my sister Rosa holding her son Giovani on another roller coaster. Both of them looked terrified and Chava could not stop laughing. He was laughing so hard that he was slapping his knee and bending over! Another funny memory of him was when I hit him with the bathroom door and caused him to bite his lip. I didn’t mean it! I was fixing my hair in my mom’s bathroom with the door partially closed. I saw a figure behind me through the mirror and I was thinking it was my brother Edgar coming in to bug me so I quickly kicked the door with my foot and tried to shut it before he came in. When he opened the door he said “Heeeeyyy, I was only trying to give you this!” It was a little chocolate gift for Valentine’s Day. I said “Sorry Chava! I thought it was Edgar trying to scare me!” He forgave me even though I made him bleed a little.

Not a single day passes by that I don’t think of him. It’s like it’s programmed in my mind to remember him. If you read this and knew Chava, please leave a comment with one of your best memories of him. I would love to hear it.

Happy Birthday Chava!
We love you!
We miss you!
We wish you were here with us!
Say “hi” to dad for us!
Heaven is just too damn far!

Love,
Your Sis,
Chena

It may almost be eight years since you left this earth, but the pain is as real as yesterday. I'll never forget you. I'll never stop loving you. I'll always have you in my heart.