By: Gabriela Yareliz
When I was a child, I loved a Sabbath lunch at my Uncle (tio) Freddy’s house. His house was a magical and mysterious one. Each room had a theme and color scheme. The blue room with the lamps with beaded fringe was my favorite. The red bathroom was my favorite one. There were many floors, twists and turns and a beautiful pond outside. I would investigate the baskets of potpourri and tiny pretty soaps. I touched every velvet cushion and bead in that house on the ground floor, mesmerized. He was just as sparkly as his decor. To me, his house fit his larger-than-life personality.
I could wander the house quietly and play, using my imagination. He was never annoyed by it. Even after I tinkered with his treadmill once. I put it to a speed I couldn’t handle and was flying off the pad, scuffed shoes and all, holding onto the bars for dear life. He still was unbothered. He found me amusing. I could always tell he adored my mom, and I benefitted from that adoration by extension.
When we would arrive for lunch, his house smelled like garlic bread. He and his wife often had lasagna or some sort of pasta and garlic bread. The bread was my favorite as a tiny carboloader.
My favorite thing about Tio Freddy’s house was the stories. His stories were so good. Often, I would eavesdrop, and the stories were so enthralling I would stop mid-play, taking a break and just sitting against the wall on the floor on the other side of the wall from the adults, quietly listening.
He was a great conversationalist and storyteller. He was lively, so funny and warm. He would invite guests that were just as interesting to join us for lunch.
Tio Freddy passed away. I did what most of us do. I let that sink in, distracted myself a bit, but mentally, I kept coming back to him. His house of mysteries, his unique style, his funny and unique laugh, his joy, his stories. I thought about how, on my mom’s side, I think we all met Jesus through him. Jesus found him first, and changed his life. God used his golden heart to reach out to the entire family.
He embodied adventure, joy, exuberance and kindness— always.
I’ll always carry the memories of Sabbath lunches at his house, and how that house and everything about him dripped with imagination, color and laughter. I know he made my imagination soar. No one told a story like him. I didn’t understand it all as a nosy eight year old, but I just knew what magic sounded like. Tio is so interesting, I thought. I just knew it.
One of his chapters has come to a close, but I know Jesus will bring him home. And in heaven, his house will be the one on the block that everyone will want to go to. He’ll tell interesting stories for eternity, and his lamps will hang glowing with beaded fringe. I just know it.


























