There’s a milestone I track every year that most people don’t know about — and it has nothing to do with a badge or a promotion. It’s my son’s birthday. May 18th 2009

Naelen-Joel was born just before I graduated from the Houston Fire Department academy. So every year when he blows out his candles, I’m also quietly marking another year of service. Seventeen candles this year. Seventeen years on the job. The two are inseparable in my mind, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Watching him grow up has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. And now here we are — he’s heading into his junior year, starting to look at colleges, beginning to dream out loud about what his future looks like. That shift from boy to young man is something no one fully prepares you for as a dad. You just try to stay present enough to witness it.

So Naelen, if you ever stumble across this post, and I hope you do, here’s what I want you to know at 17.

Be patient. The world is going to move fast and loud, and it’s going to tell you that you need to have it all figured out right now. You don’t. The best things in life, real ones, lasting ones, take time to build. Trust the process even when you can’t see the finish line.

Stay close to God. Not because life will always be easy if you do, but because you’ll need an anchor when it isn’t. Faith isn’t a backup plan. It’s the foundation. Build on it.

Character matters more than credentials. You can get into the right school, land the right job, and still end up lost if you don’t know who you are. The colleges you’re looking at, they matter. But what matters more is the person walking through those doors. Protect your integrity. Lead with kindness. Be someone people can count on.

I became a firefighter and a father around the same time, and both have taught me the same thing: showing up consistently is the most powerful thing you can do. I’ve tried to show up for you every year, every season. I’ll keep doing that.

Happy 17th, son. I’m proud of you. Being your dad is one of my greatest honors.

Dad

I’ve been wanting to start this blog for a long time, and as I sat down to write my very first post, I knew exactly who it had to be about — my dad.

After the loss of my dad, I got to thinking about how I also wanted to leave something behind for my kids, family, friends, and loved ones. At his funeral, I had so many people come up to me and tell me stories about how my dad made small, kind gestures toward families and people without ever wanting recognition.

One person in particular shared with me that my dad went to a local store, bought essential household items and groceries, and dropped them off to a family of a single mother who was struggling. No one knew. He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t tell us. He just did it.

That story stayed with me.

Something I had put off for so long was starting this blog. But after hearing those stories, this was all the motivation I needed.

I want my kids, Alex, Naelen-Joel, and Ellie — along with my family and friends, to have a digital footprint of me. My thoughts. My writing. My experiences. My lessons. My faith. I want there to be something they can return to long after I’m gone. A place where my voice still exists.

March 5 will be two months since my dad has gone to heaven. And I miss him so much.

I still hear his voice in my head calling me “Mi Renecito.” I still see the way he would look at my mom with so much love in his eyes. It was so strong and tangible,  the love that he had for my mom.

Loved ones remain present through memory. They stay alive as long as they are remembered and spoken of.

Two of my favorite quotes say it best:

“To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” — Thomas Campbell

“Every man has two deaths… No one is ever forgotten until the last person speaks their name.” — Ernest Hemingway

Here’s to honoring you and your legacy, Dad. I will never stop speaking your name. You will always live in my heart. I love you and miss you so much. I can’t wait to see you again one day. I’m so grateful that you’re in my future and not just in my past.

And to my brother Matt — thank you for helping me bring this blog to life, and for the tribute you wrote for my dad. It touched my heart in ways I can’t even put into words. I love you.

Eulogy from My Dad’s Memorial Service

January 13, 2026

Good afternoon, I’m Rene, my dad’s youngest son. It is my honor and my heartache to stand here before you and share about the life of my dad. Today, we gather together not only to celebrate my father, but to honor the legacy of a man whose love shaped our family, whose sacrifices built our foundation and whose presence will continue to guide us even in his absence. I’ve asked myself so many times throughout the last week preparing for this, how do you say goodbye to someone who has shaped every part of who you are? The answer I’ve come to is that you say goodbye by trusting that this isn’t the end— that love outlives loss, and that heaven holds what our hearts are aching for. I believe that is hope we can all hold onto.

At his core, my dad was the kind of man who made sure his family was always taken care of, he was an extremely hard worker, and steady through and through. It wasn’t just empty words, he showed through his actions daily. One of the things he was so well known for was the love he had for our mom.

When it came to our mom- his Terecita- he was the ultimate husband. A true romantic. If it was cold outside, he made sure her car was warmed up before she left for work. If she cooked, he washed the dishes and cleaned the stove. My brothers and I have vivid memories of him dancing with her in the living room, bringing her flowers, loving her gently faithfully and fully.

The night my dad passed away, we couldn’t help but smile through the tears. Even in death, he was still a romantic. He took his last breath on earth and his first breath in heaven at 10:14pm, the exact month and day he asked my mom to be his girlfriend. That charm of his never left.

My dad had a different way of showing us boys love. He was tough, and he surely would not let you tell him that you would do something later. No, he was going to make sure you did it when he told you to do it. He was teaching us discipline. But he also showed us love in the little moments with each of us. There are so many moments that stand out even more so now. Like how he would never turn down a foot race. He would see me standing at the driveway, walk over and smile and ask if I was ready. We’d count down and take off running. He would beat me every single time- that competition ran deep in his blood. I think it’s in all three of us. It wasn’t until well into my high school years that I would finally beat him. And now, that’s something I do with my own two boys.

Another memory that I think on often is that every morning he would drive me to school at HSPVA. And without fail, on the way there, he would tell me he wasn’t going to give me lunch money. It was his way of messing with me, but when I’d get out of the car he had the money in his pocket the entire time. He’d laugh, tell me he loved me and hand me the money. I’d give anything to go back to that exact moment right now.

Without even realizing it, I’ve been carrying him forward in the way I am with my own kids. Even in the nursing home during the latter part of his life, my dad was still raising his grandkids— because what he instilled in each of my brothers and me. His lessons didn’t stop when his strength faded.

Even in his final moments, my dad continued to teach us what it means to live- and to love. Someone told me that it’s a privilege to watch your parents take their last breath because they had the privilege of seeing you take your first breath. And that has weighed on me heavy this week. Because I can attest to what it’s like to see your children come into this world and take that first breath of life. The thought of watching either of my parents go was a fear I never wanted to experience, but what I didn’t realize is how profound it was to be next to my dad.

Watching him take his final breath, seeing the peace that came over him, knowing he was meeting our savior face to face and knowing that he was no longer suffering, completely changed my perspective on death. In that moment I saw him fully restored. My dad lived out teaching us how to be men, and even in his last moments he showed us how to finish strong and courageous.

If my dad were still here today, I would want to thank him. Thank him for the sacrifices, the lessons and the love. Thank him for being our example and our hero. His body may be absent from this world, but his legacy will live on through us. We love you and we will carry you with us always dad.

To end, there’s a quote from a book I want to leave you with. I read it recently and I’ve kept it at the forefront of my mind this week, and hopefully it’s something you can carry with you as well. It’s goes, “Love transcends space and time. It holds no bounds or limits. Love is stronger than death because if you love someone, they can never truly die.” -Alexis Patton.

Thank you to each and every one of you for being here today. It means so much to us and our mom. And we are extremely grateful for each of you.

Memorial Service Recording

If you would like to watch my dad’s memorial service, here is the link:

Funeral Photo Gallery

Here is the link to the photos from the funeral:

https://egidionarvaezphotography.pic-time.com/-rememberingjessjornelas/gallery