Luis tried to carry as many conch shells as he could, stacking them one at a time in his hands and arms until he needed to use his t-shirt as a hammock to hold the overflowing stack of grey- and salmon-colored, large, whole, unbroken, spiraling shapes.
Our friend Devon smiled and laughed, having seen many more of these shells than both of us, and knowing that our backpacks and the small fishing boat we arrived on to Shacklesford Island, South Carolina, and my mom's small sedan that waited for us afterwards, were not the ideal locations to carry such a large amount of fragile trophies from the beach. This was maybe 2003 or so on a road trip in college.
Luis was sensitive, resonating deeply with beauty in the world, whether it was shells on a beach, or lyrics in a punk song. He sought to collect, inspect, cherish, and create.
Luis' beauty has departed, and despite the instinct to want to stack it in a T-shirt and carry it with me, he lives on no longer in physical form, and this loss is just so unfair and emptying.
But, he lives on in memories I will cherish. Just as the conch have left behind beautiful shells - their former homes - the things Luis leaves behind remain inspiring, and things I will hold on to tightly. His family, his friends, his songs, his memories, his photos, his work for our government, they all still resonate.
I will miss him, and cherish the beauty he has left behind. May his memory be a blessing for all who knew him.