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“My Xavi,” as I liked to call to my son, was wanted even before he was born. Edwin was the younger of two children. His only brother, Luis, wanted to have a younger brother to play with. When Edwin was born, I was happy. I had my two sons, just as I always had desired.
Edwin was a restless child, playful, and naughty. He was the joy of the house. He made us laugh with his antics. He was responsible and independent. He always liked to look good (dress attractively and smell good).
He dreamed about being a professional chef. He had taken cooking classes since he was in 7th grade. At home, he used to help me cook and he did it very well. I knew he could achieve his dream…he was a warrior fighter.
Edwin was 14 years old and in 9th grade at West High School. He was very happy because he said he had grown and that he was already a young man. Edwin was very loved by his friends and classmates that he had known since preschool. Edwin died doing one of the things that he liked to do, walking. Walking was one of his ways to exercise, his workout to stay in shape.
It was a Wednesday morning about 7 a.m. on October 24, 2012, when he was walking to West High School. He was crossing the street when a commercial truck turned left and hit him, hitting his head and chest. The blow was so strong that my boy did not react. He died an hour after the crash.
The driver responsible for his death was a 19-year-old young man who needed to wear prescription glasses in order to legally drive. That morning, he did not have his glasses on. I do not understand why, especially since these were something that he needed to wear every day. The driver was looking for an address for work when he hit my son. The morning was dark and it was raining lightly. These are the reasons they gave me for the death of my son, Edwin. I do not understand these. I just know that my son is no longer with me and that I will never see him again.
Every day that passes I miss him more. Every night before we would brush our teeth and give each other a goodnight kiss, I would tease him and put toothpaste on his little face. On Sundays, the first thing I used to do was kiss him and tell him that this was the day of kisses. At night I would pretend to be asleep, just to see what he was going to do… he used to kiss me on the forehead and pull the blankets up on me.
My Xavi was fragile, sweet, and loving. I prefer to think that my boy is not dead but that he is on a trip and someday he will come back or that someday we will see each other again.