Salvador Medina Jr.

From the moment he was born, Sal was full of light. He was a happy baby, a playful kid, a joyful soul who never lost that spark. His laughter was constant, his energy contagious, and his heart open to everyone around him. He lived a good life. A full life. Not just in years, but in love, in laughter, in meaning. He grew up surrounded by family, and he never stopped showing up for them. He built a life of deep connection—with his parents, his brothers and sisters, his wife, his two beautiful daughters, his friends, and all of us who called him ours.

He had a smile that could light up a room. One of those rare, pure smiles that made you feel at ease the second you saw it. His happiness was never forced—it came naturally. He carried joy with him, and he shared it. Just being around him made you feel better. He didn’t try to impress anyone—he just loved deeply, laughed loudly, and lived honestly.

He did everything he wanted to do. He lived on his terms. He had his fun, made his memories, took care of his people, and left nothing unsaid. He wasn’t waiting for a perfect moment—he made the moment perfect by being in it.

He was everything you could hope for in a person—steady, kind, funny, dependable. You didn’t have to ask for his help; he was already there. You didn’t have to explain your pain; he already understood. That was Sal. He didn’t need to say much—his actions, his loyalty, and his presence said it all.

He showed up with his full heart, always. For my family. For friends. For anyone who needed him. His love was quiet, but it was fierce. It was in the way he looked at his daughters with pride. In the way he held his wife’s hand through both joy and hardship. In the way he made his siblings laugh even on the hard days. In the way he kissed his mom’s forehead or shared a joke with his dad. In the way he reminded each of us—just by being himself—that we were never alone. There’s no easy way to say goodbye to someone like him. The kind of man who made life feel a little lighter just by walking into the room. Who left people better than he found them. Who gave so much of himself, and asked for nothing in return. But even in our grief, there is love. There is gratitude. There is memory. And one thing we all know with certainty: We would choose him in every lifetime. As our partner. Our dad. Our son. Our brother. Our tío (jay). Our friend. And though he’s no longer here with us in body, he is everywhere. In the stories we tell. In the love we carry. In the strength we hold onto because we learned it from him. And in that unforgettable smile—one that lives in all of us now.

Salvador Medina Jr.

—you are forever our Babe, our Dad, our Brother, our Negrito, our Sal, our jay.

Thank you for everything. Truly thank you

We love you always. We carry you with us, in this lifetime and the next.