If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them.
james o’barr
It’s been four years since your untimely death. Still many questions remain. We hope and pray that justice is on the horizon, but it doesn’t take away the sting of a life cut short. You had so many plans, we all did. No one was prepared to lose everyone’s favorite Uncle.
My siblings and I were lucky. We grew up in the same town you lived in. Your home was always open. You were a constant in our lives. You attended our school events, sporting activities and it was always a treat to run into you unexpectedly. It was the same greeting every time, arms stretched out moving toward us with a big hug. I think some people would say we were actually extra lucky—we also lived down the street from El Conquistador, which we affectionately referred to as “the Restaurant.” Nachos and Uncle Ernie were never more than a few steps away.
We frequented El Con and so did our friends, some of them even worked for you! They all referred to you as Uncle Ernie. You had a special gift, not just for music and entreprenueriship but a genuine hospitality and warmth. You welcomed us and our friends. Always. No one was a stranger. I wish I could tell you all the wonderful stories people shared with me after you were gone. I live hours from Garden City now, but there are people who live in my community who knew you, who remembered you, who spoke of your genuine welcoming nature. What a testimony! One woman told me how you encouraged her and befriended her as a college student attending Garden City Community College some twenty years ago. Another told me about how he made it a point to stop at El Con during business trips to Southwest Kansas just to see Ernie and visit. I didn’t even know these people knew you, but they did. Your legacy extended well beyond family and our hometown.
At your funeral, I told the story about how you were more popular in my high school than I was. I stand by that statement. The wall of photos at El Con was practically a Garden City landmark! It was a little embarrassing to know that a timeline of my childhood photos were tacked to that wall, but secretly we all loved it. You loved your family and it showed. Eventually, the wall grew to include photos of friends and employees. I know several who considered it an honor to be added to the display. I think it was because your circle was big and everyone wanted to be included. You had a way of making everyone feel like family. Favorite uncles have a way of doing that.
It’s funny to think of how many people knew you and loved you. It warmed my heart to know that even after I moved away and started a family of my own, you were a favorite uncle to my kids and my nieces and nephews. Again, you attended school events and activities. Some of their friends worked for you. The cycle continued. You, the restaurant and your home were just as much a part of their childhood as it was mine. What a blessing and legacy.
Time marches on. There is still work to be done in righting the tragedy of your death. It’s comforting to know that so many are invested in seeking justice. I write this knowing that you won’t be forgotten. You simply can’t be. You don’t forget everyone’s favorite uncle.
“Therefore you too have grief now; but I will see you again, and your heart will rejoice, and no one will take your joy away from you.” – John 16:22
hymningandhaing 