Three months of grief, and my birthday.
Yesterday. The fifth.
Three months have passed since Paco died. Since then, I have been somewhat on auto pilot. There have been moments of sobriety, moments of clarity that come as quickly as they disappear. But on balance, these last three months have felt like an eternity. And yet it feels as raw as last week. This week especially, the weight of his absence has felt extraordinary.
Today. The sixth.
My 45th birthday. Paco would have been the most excited. More than my wife. More than the other kids. More than all of them combined. He loved to make birthdays the best for whomever. Paco would have fought his siblings to wake me so that he could be the first to wish me happy birthday. He would have insisted on getting me a giant birthday balloon from Dollar Tree, and would not let the sun set without surprising me with a cake. “Dad, stay in your bedroom while we make a surprise cake for you.”
Lucia and the kids did well to make the day feel joyous as they could. We ordered breakfast burritos for delivery. I took the kids to the movies—a reshowing of The Bad Guys (2018)—and got some tacos for lunch. Before dinner, we went to do indoor mini golf. And yeah, they got balloons. Four of them. He is not forgotten.
My cake says “145” because of a running joke. My dad always added a hundred to his age when I was a kid. I started doing it to my kids. They all know the truth by now, but it’s the still the running gag in the family about “dad’s old.”
☕️ My first proper pour over in months. Dialing in a new grinder I’ve wanted for a long time. The inexpensive but worthy King P1.
Oof. I had to replace the car battery this morning. More than double since the last time (2022, I believe).
🎥 World Record Rubik’s Cube, via Twitter/X.
0.103 seconds. Let that sink in.
I’m not saying he’s overthinking it, but I just received a student email about fall classes. (Spring classes ended last week, and grades weren’t due until this past Monday.)
Washington should recognize that rehearsals like Strait Thunder-2025A are a serious form of escalation. Not responding, or not appearing to respond, will invite further escalation. Washington should clearly communicate steps taken in response to Chinese Communist Party actions surrounding Taiwan.
Pope Bob, from Chicago—and a fellow alumni of Villanova (where I got my MA)—knows how to make an entrance. Deo Gratias.
Big kid one his pinewood derby tonight. Undefeated. After these last two months, he needed something to be excited about it.
I discover that Rilo Kiley is launching a reunion tour! Woot.
I discover they’re sold out in Phoenix! Booo!
🗞️ Six Thing I learned About Life Selling Mens Clothes, Drake’s Editorial
But maybe I was being nice to the register girls for other reasons. Reasons I didn’t even know. Decades later, while I was in Milan for the men’s shows. I met a girl from Chicago. We soon learned that we both had worked at Mark Shale, though at two different stores.
Reader, I married her.
I learned the same lessons selling hi-fi through college.
🗞️ 50 Things I’ve Learned Writing Construction Physics, Subtack
“AT&T spent substantially more on telephone infrastructure in the 1960s than NASA spent on the Apollo Program.”
Currently reading: Lament for a Son by Nicholas Wolterstorff 📚
No surprise. I miss Paco every moment of every day.
🗞️ Middle-Aged Man Trading Cards](https://www.tokyoweekender.com/entertainment/middle-aged-man-trading-cards-go-viral-in-japan/)
While kids in most parts of Japan are obsessed with Pokémon cards … the children of Kawara are clutching to something a little closer to home. They are playing a trading card game (TCG) where the stars… [are] ojisan (middle-aged or older men) from the local community of Saidosho.
🗞️ Sports and the American City
Both collegiate and professional sports have been aggressively cozying up to gambling interests, a sure sign that a healthy profit motive has turned into the type of greed that melts the wax wings of hubris.
Great read from a good friend of mine.
Today is one month since my beloved son, Paco died unexpectedly. Feels like a blink, like an eternity. His siblings are only now starting to be agitated about it all. His mom and I get by a day at a time.
🎥 The Sound of Music: Recut as an Action movie, YouTube.
Hilarious and I’m angry that I only saw this now.
Finally watching my first March Madness game of the year (Mich St. v Bryant). It’s been a painful week. This will be a nice distraction.
Eulogy for my son, Paco
The morning after Paco died, I turned to the opening of Ecclesiastes, that great caution against earthly pursuits:
… vanity of vanities! All is vanity.
What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?
A generation goes, and a generation comes, but the earth remains for ever.
The wisdom of this book cautions against the toil of earthly pursuits because in vain do we strive and toil: for when we are gone, we will eventually be forgotten. Forgotten not to God, but to time and humanity.
Today I toil, but not in vain. I pray my words will speak well of my beloved son, and your beloved friend, Paco.
Francisco Alfredo Perez was born on October 9th, 2017, two days before his older brother’s birthday. I was in the final year of my doctorate in Austin Texas. Lucia and I were broke, living in graduate student housing. In the months leading up to his birth I lost count of how many times she asked me if were stupid for having another child. I often told her that because no time was a good time to have a kid, any time was a good time.
Paco brought joy and laughter to the house during a time of sadness—he was our rainbow baby, the first child after a miscarriage. He became the light of our world, the lamp set high within home to provide light to the house and to our hearts. Chiefly he became a wonderful little brother. Nacho had his best friend.
When he got older, Paco could not wait to share with me at the end of each day what he did. He found the most creative ways to console his sister if she was sad. He was the chief game organizer for his brothers. He would often interrupt his mother with the loudest scream just to say “I love you.”
Before he was seven, Paco matched and then exceeded his older brother in height; he surpassed both his brother and mother in strength. His physical strength was outmatched only by the strength of his heart.
He was never at a loss for how to help people with his strength.
Paco was not without his troubles: He had ADHD that at times could debilitate his decision-making and overwhelm him with emotions. “I have big feelings and need your help,” he would regularly ask us.
Last summer I signed Paco up for Jiujitsu. I knew it would it be good for him to get him exercise and teach his ADHD brain how to focus. I knew he would enjoy it. I could not have known how much he would love it. Over these past six months, Paco came into his own. He and I bonded over it. At least once a week, he and I would have a conversation along these lines:
“Dad, how did you know I would like jiujitsu?”
“I’m your dad, I’m smart.”
“No, it’s because you love me. That’s how you knew.”
Paco was not wrong.
Jiujitsu is not easy. Paco would would often say to his coaches, “it’s hard.” With kindness and patience, they always replied to him: “you can do hard things, Paco.”
At home he was slowly internalizing it. Regardless of the cause of his frustration or “big feelings,” we could remind him that he could do hard things. “I can do hard things,” he would say to himself as he calmed down and reset.
Other than his jiujitsu class, there was only place that brought him peace of mind: the children’s liturgy at this parish. He loved Jesus and strove to understand Him. At bed time, his favorite stories were those that exemplified the heroic virtues of the Christian faith.
A few weeks ago, after one such story, he asked his mother about heaven. He announced to her a couple days after that he was ready to go to heaven. “Not for a long-time, kiddo,” his mom replied. Without a skip, he rebutted: “But you said it was perfect happiness.”
Paco was not wrong.
Paco died on March 5th 2025, on Ash Wednesday. Ash Wednesday is the day we Christians begin our preparation for Easter, our celebration of Christ’s victory over sin and death. That morning, Paco received ashes from the hospital chaplain.
In hindsight we cannot help but wonder if—as painful as it is to lose him—his desire for the heavenly reunion with Christ was so pure, so pure that God brought him home to abide with Him in the Fullness of Truth.
Now it is our turn to do hard things. We have to go on without Paco. Lucia and I lack the strength to do it alone. But we have Christ and we have all of you. Just as Simon helped Jesus carry the Cross to Calvary, so too will you help us—indeed you have already helped us. But while Simon was compelled to help by Roman force, you freely help out of your love for Paco.
Do hard things. But do not toil in vain. Instead remember that the greatest toils are those that bring life and light to the world, just as Paco did.
* These were my prepared remarks for the eulogy delivered at my son’s funeral mass today. Requiescat in Pace, my kiddo.
I meant to post this earlier, since folks have asked: here are the details on services. No expectations that anyone attends, or contributes to the GFM our neighbor setup. I’m just too tired to post anything else. Funeral on Monday