He was the first born son, and a happy and beautiful baby boy. But this story is not about his beginning. There’s time for that later. This story is about how he missed out on a long, prosperous, successful and happy life. Only God knows why he was taken so young, and as a family we struggled to accept it, and live without him. But we did…

I share this story with you, as you get to know me through this Blog. I’m not looking for sympathy or condolences. It’s been far too long. My brother was born the eldest, I was the middle child and my sister was the youngest. After my brother was born, I came along 14 months to the day. I think with 3 children, we pretty much fit the birth order syndromes to a T. In our Mexican culture, the oldest son is typically favored by his mother, and that was definintely the case with our brother. He could do no wrong. His way or the highway. But I digress. I will not write about how he lived his short life. I’ll leave that for another day.

My brother boarded a Western Airlines “red-eye” flight to Mexico City to visit family. It was October 31, 1979. I drove my mother to the airport to see him off (she didn’t drive back then). He was traveling with a friend, who was a neighbor (two doors down). At that time, visitors were allowed to the gate area with departing passengers and to meet arriving passengers. So we sat with him and Don until they boarded.

They would be picked up at the Mexico City airport by a dear cousin and then driven to our “home town” of Veracruz. Well, although my brother’s plane somewhat landed in Mexico CIty that fateful morning, it crashed and he and Don perished instantly. It was 1979, when it seemed like DC-10 airplanes were dropping out of the sky. He was on a DC-10, but his end came due to pilot error. The plane landed on a runway under construction. There was fog and perhaps miscommunication with Air Traffic Control in the Tower. I don’t know. I never read about it, really. It wouldn’t bring him back.

As I’ve said in other stories, I traveled a lot for my career. I am an American Airlines loyalist, but that didn’t start until 1985. Western Airlines was bought by Delta less than 10 years after this tragedy. Nonetheless, I refused to fly first Western and then Delta for many many years. I believe the first time I boarded a Delta flight (obligatory due to work) was in 2005 or 2006. But let’s get back to Carlos.

My brother was 21, in love with Laura, still living at home. He had a good job, was studying architecture at a local junior college, had a great group of friends and had a bad ass car (black, Chevy Camero). He never traveled much, he did make make a ski trip once or twice that I remember. But I can’t recall if he made it to Las Vegas when he became of age. Yeah, maybe he did.

My brother “fit the bill” of the eldest child. He was never the big brother that took care of his “little” sisters, that just wasn’t his style. So we learned to fend for ourselves. Growing up in the USA some of those older brother customs from Mexico were lost on our family trying to fit into USA customs, traditions and norms. But I do believe he epitomized the characteristics of a first born, and I the middle child and my sister the youngest. In my father’s family and my mother’s, he was the first born of the cousins. But that all changed (for me) that tragic night. I was thrust into the role of the eldest, because that’s what I became, instantly. On my father’s side there was a cousin my brother’s age, but on my mother’s side, I became the eldest of the cousins.

Although growing up, I was never the shy one, I knew my place in the family hierarchy. Though I won’t pretend that I didn’t “buck the system” a time or two, especially in high school. When I looked up Birth Order Traits, Eldest Child characteristics, these came up:

• Contientious
• Determined
• Entitled (not me, but maybe my brother)
• Perfectionist
• Reponsible
• Rule-follower (definintely me; not my brother)
• Hard-working
• High-achieving

I check most of those boxes. I was 20 at the time of my brother’s passing, and I do believe his death changed my life’s trajectory. And not in a bad way… not at all. But my entire family’s lives changed, of course. I can only speak for myself. And most of this is very self-reflective. Coming to me now… as I write my life stories.

I don’t want to tarnish my brother’s life, his work, his loves. He deserves more than that. I wonder where he’d be today. What would he think of what we have all become? He lived a good life, a happy one. I know he was content and in a good place in his life. Where he was focusing on a job he enjoyed, his love, Laura, and his future.

That is all I can say for now. I hope I have given you a glimpse into my family’s past… just a little bit. I don’t think I can include much more. I don’t want to be maudlin. I want you to see Carlos Antonio for the man he was and wanted to be. As I remember him with love, a little sadness for what he missed and I thank God for His grace and blessings.

“But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them — yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me.” 1 Corinthians 15:10