Black Sword

The only person my mother trusted enough to take care of me on two long international flights into and from a third world nation, when I was 18 months old and went to Colombia for the first time to meet my grandparents.


The man who taught me how to play video games when I was three, starting a lifelong love of video games.


The man who went with my mother and bought my Super Nintendo (with Super Mario World included) for me when I was six, the first console and first game I ever owned.


The man who bought me the first video game I ever got, The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, starting a lifelong love for the Zelda series.


The man who first introduced me to Star Wars by letting me play the Super Nintendo games, games I could never beat when I was young but that he could.


The man who risked the wrath of his termagant wife to let me sneak into his house to play games.


The man I could always hand the controller to when I could not get past a hard spot with my child's skill.


The man who was the strongest chess player I have ever met, who I only defeated once by abandoning all strategy and defense and attacking without thought of survival.


The man who, when I was five, was the one to find me when I was lost inside the K-Mart on Route 4, ending an experience that was so horrible for me that I can remember the terror I felt at that time even now.


The man who came over at 1, 2, or even 3am on Saturdays, watched some TV, ate crackers and coffee which I always offered since I was the only one up, and just unwinded. I didn't know then, but it was a sanctuary he needed, a place where he was always welcome no matter the time. It was something unwittingly provided, but I'm glad it was me to do so.


The man who only scolded me once in my life, when I was hit by a Jeep as I was walking home. It's the only time I've seen him angry.


The only one of my mother's brothers who I have ever addressed as "Tio."


One year ago, that great person died. My world has definitely been diminished.