“Talk”
By Gilbert Quinones
1989 to 1993 – Elementary to High School
This is not a traditional article. It is a chapter in a book I have been writing that covers four years of events that impacted the kids I grew up with, who knew Avedis Garcia. It contains events that may be painful for some to read, but that is not my goal. I want to demonstrate how the people in our lives can positively impact us.
If you knew Avedis personally, reading this may take strength, and it still may if you didn’t know him. If you have had a dear friend or a close family member that you lost, you will understand how difficult it is. Although it was difficult to write this chapter, I am glad I did.
If you have scars on your heart, just know you are not alone. Sharing and reflecting on each other’s experiences can help us become stronger and gain a deeper understanding as we overcome grief.
I love to remember the positive things. The laughs, smiles, and good memories that make life meaningful. My friend Avedis helped me become stronger in life, and I hope that sharing this also makes you stronger.
2025
Texas is home, but I’ve grown fond of being able to come up to my property in the Colorado Plateau. It’s nice to escape the densely populated areas of city traffic, noise, and instead hear the birds chirping in the morning.
We are just travelers passing through this world. Some of these beautiful trees have been here for hundreds of years. The tree’s lifespan is like a tiny window of life compared to the billions of years the Earth has existed.
Owning is like a long-term lease compared to the brevity of life. The trees that are here today will eventually grow old, and new life will grow.
Many of these trees will outlive me, and in 100 years, someone else will own this land.
But I will enjoy it for the time being. The sun glows differently here. It almost feels like I’m on another planet.
The elevation is so different, and after I get acclimated to the altitude, I enjoy doing deep thinking and reflection.
Our experiences can significantly influence who we become, especially during our early developmental years.
We can influence many experiences by choosing the people we want to be around.
We all have people we think about every day, whether family, friends, or someone we care about. Even if I haven’t spoken to you in years, I think about you every day.
I believe there are human abilities that we don’t understand yet. I will never claim to be psychic, but there is definitely something I don’t understand. I can close my eyes and sometimes feel the feelings of others.
It may be in my head or just a strong intuition. I don’t understand it, but anyone who knows me or has interacted with me personally knows exactly what I am talking about.
But enough of the woo woo.
I am 46 at the time of taking these photos, and I usually don’t take shirtless pictures. The reason is that I used to be very heavy and have always had insecurities about the excess skin. However, I recently read Arnold Schwarzenegger’s latest book, Be Useful: Seven Tools for Life.
He talked about how his body looks in his late 70s compared to his younger years. He said his chest and everything else are saggy and not the same, but when you are young, you don’t think about how temporary it is to have firm muscles.
It made me think about how, when I’m 80, I will reflect on my younger years and wish I had been more grateful for my body.
So that’s what I’m doing, before it is too late.
But as I take these photos, even though I did the work, we stand on the shoulders of giants.
I am grateful I had a best friend who was into fitness in my early years. His name was Avedis Garcia, and he changed my life.
I probably wouldn’t look like this if it weren’t for him.
In memory of Avedis.
May 3, 1978 – January 31, 1993
1989
6th grade has started, and I’m 10, and I’m so eager to turn 11 so I can catch up with all my friends. I just realized my haircut resembles Bart Simpson.
The school is Avenue E in Copperas Cove, TX, and we are all eating in the cafeteria. When you’re done, you dump your tray and can go to recess.
I remember all the kids at the table talking about video games. “Nintendo”, “8-bit graphics”, “Sega Genesis is out”, etc.
Avedis was a few chairs away from me, and I had not met him yet.
We were both quiet for the most part, but when we did talk, we usually had something meaningful to say.
There was a natural bond when we chatted; we have so much in common.
The next day, we were all sitting at the table again, and kids were getting up from their chairs, leaving for recess. As the table cleared, I noticed Avedis sitting a couple of chairs over. He waved me over, and I thought he was trying to tell me something. I said, “Yeah?” He just said, “Talk,” with a nod and a sit closer gesture.
That was the moment we became friends. I moved seats to sit closer, and we started talking about the Nintendo game Blaster Master. We were both fascinated by this game.
It was fun to glance at this 1988 game and see what excited two kids back then.
Kid talk: “Yeah! And you can get in and out of your tank! Drive it in the water and hover in the air!”
When we were done eating, it was time to go outside, so we dumped our trays and left the cafeteria.
Even though he was just a kid and I’d only known him for 30 minutes, he was already talking about how he would start lifting weights when he got older.
Avedis said, “My big brother is stronger than me, but at least I got something!” as he flexed his arm and showed me his golf ball-sized bicep.
I was glad I met a new friend, and 6th grade was much more fun now. When we went on band trips, I had someone to talk to on the bus who played the same video games as I did.
We exchanged numbers and would chat on the phone. I remember hearing his big brother Carlos in the background; he sounded so old to me.
I asked, “How old is your brother?”
“13”, he replied.
I asked, “Does your brother ever pick on you?”
He said, “He got mad at me once and threw one of those big shooter marbles at me, and I ducked, and it hit the glass door. It broke, and we got in trouble.”
I thought that was funny, and suddenly, I felt more comfortable hearing Carlos’s deep voice in the background.
One day, Avedis said, “My brother is selling his Sega Genesis. He said he would sell it to you for less than he paid.”
That semester, I worked hard to get the AB honor roll on my report card and somehow convinced my mother to buy it for me. We drove to Avedis’s house for the first time, and I remember how excited I was as I walked up the long steps. Carlos connected his Sega Genesis to their living room TV and had Altered Beast playing in demo mode in the background when we walked in.
He kept everything extremely neat and even had the plastic covers and box packaging as if the system were new. The Garcia brothers’ mother, Mrs Garcia, was in the kitchen. She said hello and eventually sat down with my mother, and they started talking, while Carlos let me check out the system.
Carlos was very articulate, and I remember my mother saying he’s going to be a good salesman when he gets older.
Mr. and Mrs Garcia eventually bought the Garcia brothers a new Sega Genesis, and they did that same year. But that was the first time I met Avedis’s brother, Carlos, and his mother, Mrs. Garcia.
1990 First Semester 7th Grade
We were now at CCJHS. Avedis did not choose band class as his elective in junior high, so I was sad that we would no longer attend band trips together, but we still got to talk during lunch period.
He was fascinated with Jean-Claude Van Damme. He thought the slow-motion noises he used to make in his movies, such as Blood Sport, were hilarious and would imitate them.
I remember when I called his house, he would occasionally mention how soon he would be old enough to start working out. His family was protective of his young age and did not want him to hinder his growth in any way, but he could not wait to turn 13 and start lifting weights.
We were all still figuring out our identities, thinking we knew everything, making mistakes, and just trying to have fun.
1991 Final Semester 7th Grade
This is the age when boys start changing, and a hint of our development and identity begins to shape. Avedis would sometimes say a joke poking at my weight, and I did not like it. He wasn’t being a bully; it was more in the form of friendly sarcasm.
As I reflect, it all makes sense now. He would occasionally talk about new friends he met in the neighborhood, and one of them was into Arnold Schwarzenegger. They were a little older, and he saw the Pumping Iron movie, in which Arnold would occasionally poke jokes at his close friends in the form of sarcasm.
These days, it’s referred to as trolling. But of course, I didn’t like it.
I told him, “If you don’t stop making fun of me, we can’t be friends anymore.”
Since he didn’t stop, I ignored him. As the school year came to an end, I began making different friends. Avedis and I did not talk for the entire summer after 7th grade.
And it was around this time that he began entering his cocoon and working out.
1991 First Semester 8th Grade
8th grade had just started, and I was leaving the cafeteria and walking outside. As the door shut, I didn’t realize Avedis was behind me; he opened the door, “Gilbert!” I thought he was going to say something nice. He said, “I just beat Mickey Mouse (Castle of Illusion was a popular game on Sega Genesis), and I asked Minnie Mouse if she would go out with you, and she said yes!”
LOL, I laugh now as a grown man. We are so funny when we are kids. I continued to pretend like he didn’t exist and walked away. He did not try to tease me ever again after that. Even though we hadn’t talked all summer, he saw that I was standing my ground on my self-respect and left me alone.
About a month later, I kept hearing these stories about kids asking if they had seen Avedi’s arms.
“Have you asked Avedis to flex?!” they would say. I remember thinking, “Yeah, he has a bit of muscle, slightly more than average, but nothing shocking. Then I remembered, “Oh, he’s 13 now, so he’s allowed to work out. “
One day, Avedis was sitting at a cafeteria table by himself, drinking a carton of milk. He looked lonely. He wore one of those cross-colored shirts with short but long sleeves covering his arms past his elbows.
Suddenly, a group of kids approached him and asked him to flex his arms. He politely nodded yes, drank the rest of his milk carton, and put it to the side to begin lifting his sleeve.
He was already flexing his arm underneath his shirt and slowly began pushing up his sleeve.
Kids, “Dang!!” “Vann Damme!”
Avedis’s golf ball bicep had turned into a huge baseball. His arms looked like something from an action movie, and we were only in 8th grade.
At that age, boys are fascinated with masculinity, especially if it’s someone their own age.
I remember grinning and thinking, “Good job.” He seemed to have changed and matured, so I approached him later, and he was shocked.
I asked, “How did you get your arms so big?” I can tell he was so glad that I started talking to him.
He responded, “Just curls.”
At that moment, we became friends again. He never apologized, but he didn’t have to. Sometimes, kids do that and just start talking like everything is fine, because it was.
He respected me for standing my ground, and we started hanging out again.
What did your dad say about your muscles?” I asked.
Avedis said, “My dad said just because you are the one with the muscles, don’t be thinking you’re all big and bad.”
It was this mindset and good parenting that helped Avedis keep a humble level head.
I have so many fond memories of our friendship. I used to make killer omelets; he thought they were awesome. One New Year’s Eve, we spent the countdown to the next year playing video games and didn’t even realize the year had changed.
I had a few dumbbells at my house. He taught me how to curl and showed me some of his workouts.
After curling, he would say, “Flex!” As we both flexed the single most muscular bicep pose in the mirror, I would ask him, “How does it look?” I was developing bulky arms, but I was nowhere near as lean as him; however, he would still compliment me. “Your arm looks big!” he said.
One time, I was chilling at his house in the living room, and Carlos was there. Carlos was now around 16, sitting on an ottoman in the middle of the room, in front of the fireplace. Avedis was showing us a video game magazine.
In a way, video game magazines were kind of like our internet back then, and they cost money. Avedis kept his magazines like new and unwrinkled. Carlos was excited to see an article in the magazine, and Avedis said, “Be careful with the pages.”
He kept saying, “Be careful not to mess it up.” But Carlos was enthusiastically turning the page, checking the article out roughly. Then, suddenly, Avedis grabbed the magazine from Carlos’ hands and started ripping it up, saying, “Well sh**, let me f*** it up too then,” quickly tearing it to pieces.
Avedis said, “I want to mess it up too, if you’re going to do that,” as he finished tearing it up.
I froze as my mouth dropped. I thought that was the first time I was going to see Carlos clock his little brother in the head.
Carlos paused, then slowly grinned, smiled, and just shook his head, “You’re stupid,” he said.
Carlos demonstrated he had temperament. He just stared at Avedis, then suddenly Avedis felt foolish; he had ripped up his own magazine lol. Avedis immediately started picking up all the pieces while tossing them in the fireplace.
Then he started laughing, “I don’t care. It’s just a magazine.” Avedis said as he was slowly picking up the pages to put in the fireplace. Carlos thought it was funny and just shook his head.
Then Avedis lit the fireplace, and we all watched his new magazine burn. As I reflect, I realize how it was one of those life lessons about material possessions, temperament, and maturity.
1992 Fish Day aka Freshmen Friday
On the first Friday of high school, I was scared about being a freshman. That was the day it was customary for freshmen to get picked on. I had been picked on many times in junior high. I remember talking to Advedis on the phone the day before and asking him if he was nervous.
“If someone tries to mess with me, I don’t care if I get my ass kicked, I’m going to fight back”, he said.
I felt his courage. “I’ll fight back too man”, I said. “But will you help me if I’m getting beat up?”
He chuckled and said, “I’ll help you.”
I felt so much better knowing he would have my back.
The next day, we were standing by the lockers, waiting for the bell to ring, signaling the start of school. It was a time when all the grade levels were mixed in the hall, making it likely for bullying to occur.
I remember this tall basketball player, probably a sophomore or junior (because the seniors usually did not pick on first-year students), asking kids who walked by, “Are you a freshman?!”, “Are you a freshman?!”
Then he pulled a small kid by his backpack as he walked by, and as the kid tried to get away, he shoved him. “You better go freshman!”
He looked over at me, and I could feel him about to ask me if I was a freshman. I tried to look as tough as possible. He gave me a smirk, and I could tell he was debating whether to mess with me. Avedis stood closer by the lockers next to me, looked at him with confidence, and nodded his head like a “what’s up” gesture.
The bully kid looked at Avedis, decided he wasn’t taking any chances of messing with us, and walked away to pick on other kids.
“Thanks man,” I said.
That was the day I told myself I wanted to build muscle. I saw how his physical fitness magnified his confidence and projected an image to kids not to mess with him.
1992 The Failed Getaway
Avedis would walk to my house. He walked everywhere and carried a pocket knife with a wooden handle in case he needed to protect himself.
I also walked, but that summer I was lucky. For my birthday, I got a moped that was about 10 years old. I was fascinated by the idea of independence and being able to drive places.
Since I was not yet legal to drive, my mother instructed me not to drive it on the roads. I would take it up the mountain near my house, but it took a few roads to get there.
I would also visit my other friend Bobby (most kids in school called him Robert), Lamp. Bobby had a large house out in the country off of 116 N.
Sometimes, I would talk my mom into letting me drive my moped to Bobby’s house. “There are no cops, Mom; it’s just country roads!”
Bobby had even more independence where he lived. He was also 14, and his parents let him drive a small pickup around the country roads. My friends and I would load up in his truck, and we thought we were so grown as we drove around the country roads.
Avedis and I thought, “Man, if we just had a car, we could drive to Killeen and talk to girls.”
I had a teen phone (second landline phone in a household). Since I didn’t have the physique, I had to rely on being a good conversationalist, and I was talking to girls who went to Ellison High School in Killeen, TX, about 10 miles away.
Avedis said, “I can probably sneak out my parents’ car.”
“What?!” I asked.
“They don’t wake up,” he said. So one night, when Bobby was staying at my house, we made plans to go to Killeen.
Avedis called in the evening. “Did you get the keys?” I asked. He said, “Yes, I got them before they went to sleep. I’ll wait a little while, and when it gets late, I’ll pick you up.”
Later, Bobby and I walked to the end of the block while Avedis pulled up with his parents’ car.
We hopped in the car, and I got in the passenger seat. I wasn’t really into baseball, but I still wore my White Sox button-up sweater because it was black, and I always tried to look thin. Avedis was wearing his big brother’s colored trench coat. We were ready to head to Killeen to meet some girls.
We got to Highway 190 in Copperas Cove by the McDonalds, and there were a couple of cop cars that had someone pulled over for a DWI stop or something.
Here we are, 14 years old, driving to Killeen in the middle of the night. SMH
We were nervous passing the cop cars with their flashing lights. Avedis drove as properly as he could, and we were quiet, saying, “Just drive straight.” Then, just as we were feeling a sense of relief passing the cops, Avedis said, “F*** them, lol,” and started wiggling the steering wheel left and right while laughing.
Avedis did that too soon, because one of those cops was watching us. We got about half a mile, and a cop who was watching came after us. The next thing we knew, we saw red and blue lights flashing behind us.
“Ahh man!” “Just pull over”, I told him.
I could see the fear in his eyes, but he kept his composure. “Just act like you forgot your license”, I said.
As he pulled over (close by the Cove BillBoard), the cop approached the window and said, “Is everything okay? I saw you swerving back there. I need your driver’s license.”
Avedis slowly checked his left and right pockets. Then he looked at the officer and said, with his hands out, “I don’t have it.”
“How old are you?” the cop asked.
Advedis said, “16” (but he was actually 14).
The police officer said. “Okay, I need you to step out of the vehicle,” and took him to the back of the car.”
Minutes later, more cop cars pulled up behind us. We knew we were caught. They never let Avedis come back to the car. We waited around 30 minutes to an hour. They radioed the station, called Avedis’s parents, and soon everyone was on the scene.
I remember Bobby’s facial expression and what he said when Avedis’ father arrived and got out of the car.
“Oh Sh**! Avedi’s dad looks pissed!”
That scared us all. His parents were calm though, and eventually Mrs Garcia drove us in the car, back to my house. She lectured Avedis in a firm but calm manner.
I remember thinking, “If they knock on my door and wake my parents, I’m going to be in big trouble,” and I was so grateful they didn’t.
I called Avedis the next day and was surprised that his mom let me talk to him.
He said, “Yeah that was dumb, I’m not gonna do that anymore,” and we never really talked about it again.
He stayed out of trouble and maintained level-headed thinking. During our walks home, I could feel his family’s strong parenting and his big brother’s wisdom.
“Yeah man, you know those pornos?! That sh** f**** up your head.” And other knowledge bombs of wisdom.
1993 Final Semester 9th Grade
Avedis and I walked home after school. His house was 0.9 miles from mine, so he would sometimes walk to my house before heading home.
Sometimes, other friends who lived nearby would join us.
Once, I invited my friends over after school, and we got into the food. Avedis was excited about eating Rice Krispies with milk from a cup and thought it was funny.
Avedis used to wear the same casual clothes when he went to friends’ houses, and often the same thing to school. A t-shirt with a red flannel and tan dickie pants.
Then in January, he showed up at school wearing new clothes, and everyone was shocked. He was sporting a white Calvin Klein hoody and dark Girbauds denim jeans, looking smooth. “What kind of pants are those bro?!” a kid asked. He was so proud, “They are Girbauds”, Avedis responded.
His confidence radiated, and I remember him sitting at a round table during lunch, as a couple of friends and I didn’t even recognize him. He was sitting at a table known to have some of the cool and popular kids.
I remember feeling intimidated, so I did not feel comfortable joining him at that table.
When it was time to walk home, we usually met at the back of the school. He wasn’t there, so I waited. I remember the feeling, thinking, “I hope he doesn’t want to stop being my friend because he’s starting to hang out with the cool kids.”
Then Avedis showed up, smiling, “Sorry I’m late, these girls wanted to talk!” he said.
I was relieved he didn’t let the start of popularity go to his head.
In the last few weeks of his life, Avedis was extremely happy. He enjoyed his new clothes and growing popularity. He would put effort into mixing his outfits and borrowing some of his brother’s clothes.
“Dressing like this makes me feel confident”, he said. Then, when he visited, he would put on his casual red flannel. He was still the same, genuine Avedis.
This next part was difficult for me to write. If you want to skip it, I understand. Scroll down to “The Day Before the Accident”…
1993 – The canoe tipped over
Bobby would have different groups of friends over at his house on weekends. I don’t recall everyone there when it happened because I was not there and was on restriction. I tell this story as Bobby told it to me, as I did not know Jason Adams (who was also there) personally.
They took the canoe out to a large pond near Bobby’s house. They were not wearing life vests. They were having fun and just being kids. They were all laughing and rocking the canoe. As they laughed and the canoe rocked, it tipped over.
The water was cold.
At first, they were all laughing, including Avedis. They all began swimming back to shore.
As they swam back to shore, something happened to Avedis, and his laughing turned to panic. As they made it to shore, Avedis did not. Bobby went back in the water trying to save him. He looked and tried to find him, but couldn’t because the water was freezing cold. I remember Bobby telling me how hard he tried to find him underwater.
It was never determined what caused Avedis to drown. It was speculated that it’s possible his legs got caught in weeds at the bottom of the pond. Or that he got a cramp from the freezing cold water.
Shortly after the accident
I did not know Avedis was at Bobby’s house that weekend, but even though I was not allowed to use the phone, I felt compelled to call him.
My teen landline phone was taken away because I was on restriction, so I used the kitchen phone. I called Avedis’s house, and his brother, Carlos, answered and told me where he was.
I then called Bobby’s house to find out what they were up to. Bobby’s sister, Kim, answered.
“Is Bobby there?” I asked.
Kim responded, “They are all at the lake. There has been an accident with Avedis. The canoe tipped over, and the sheriff is here. Can you call Avedis’s mom?”
“Yes, can I come over? I’m calling now!” I said.
I called Aveid’s house again, and Carlos answered the phone. I explained that Avedis was in an accident. He said, “Do you have the number? Wait, we got it!”
We hung up, then about 2 minutes later, Carlos called me back. “Do you know where Bobby lives?” he asked.
I said, “Yes”, and Carlos said, “We will be right there.”
In about 5 minutes, Carlos and his mother, Mrs Garcia, in the passenger seat, pulled up to my house. I was waiting outside and got in the back seat. Carlos started accelerating up 116 N as I gave him directions to Bobby’s house.
I don’t remember every word in detail, as my head was spinning. Carlos and his mom were not arguing but intensely debating whether we should drive out to Bobby’s house.
As we got a couple of miles down the road, Carlos said, “What are you saying, Mom?!”
Mrs Garcia blurted out, not yelling, but just a strong and powerful statement, “AVEDIS. IS. AT. DARNELL.”
Carlos didn’t say anything, hit the brakes, and began making a U-turn and accelerating in the opposite direction to Darnell Hospital.
We did not have a cell phone; Mrs. Garcia just knew where her son was.
I never talked about it, nor did I ever question how she knew. It was just a mother’s instinct.
Moms know.
When we got to the ER, they would not let us see Avedis and immediately put us in a private room.
The medical staff came in to explain what was happening.
They said Avedis was under water for approximately 45 minutes, and they are trying to resuscitate him. They explained that since the water was cold, there was a chance his body could have gone into hypothermia, and there was a slight chance he could survive, but currently, there was no heartbeat.
After the nurse delivered the news, it was heartbreaking.
Carlos was furious, “What was he thinking?! he’s so stupid!” as he punched the door to the private room. It was a heavy industrial-type hospital door. He then placed one hand on the wall and the other on his hip, looking down. I looked at his hand on his hip and saw his knuckles busted open.
The nurse tried to comfort him and look at his wound. Tears dripped from his face and blood from his hand. “I’m fine!” Carlos said as he brushed her off. The nurse left him alone as she saw he was in emotional pain, and he did not care that his hand was bleeding.
Mr Garcia was soon at the hospital. It was difficult to watch them embrace each other in pain.
Later, a priest came in. We prayed together with him. I remember asking God with all my heart. “Please don’t let Avedis die.”
Moments later. The nurse came in and gave us a glimmer of hope.
She said they are currently performing an open heart surgery where they massage his heart to try and resuscitate him, and they were able to get a very small but weak heartbeat. It’s not enough, but there is some hope.
We were so hopeful. And we waited. 10, 20, then 30 minutes.
In a broken but very stern voice, Mr. Garcia pulled back his tears and told the nurse, “If he has a heartbeat, he’s still alive.”
“I want to see my son when he’s alive. You tell the doctors that I want to see my son when he’s alive, not when he’s dead.”
The nurse said, “Okay,” and then left to speak with them.
The nurse came back later and was deeply apologetic and said that it was not possible to see him during their resuscitation efforts, and she was so sorry.
Mr. Garcia was crushed, but he understood.
Moments later, she returned and delivered the devastating news. Avedis had passed away, and there was nothing else they could do. The nurse said, “I’m sorry.”
The next few hours were a lot to comprehend.
The nurse said they could let us see Avedis and explained how he would look and everything he was connected to.
I could have chosen not to see him, but I was not there during the accident, and I still couldn’t believe what happened. I went with the Garcia family to the room Avedis was in.
It was heartbreaking to watch and hear their pain. I stood at a distance to give them their space, still in a state of shock. As time went by, they began to leave the room. Carlos was the last one to leave out of the Avedis family. He kissed Avedis on his head and said, “Goodbye bro.”
As Carlos walked to the door, I just stood there, frozen. I couldn’t believe Avedis was gone. I didn’t touch him and just said, ” Goodbye friend.” I slowly followed behind Carlos.
As we got to the waiting area, people in the ER gave the family and friends of Avedis space to grieve and went to other waiting areas.
Then Bobby walked into the hospital waiting room with his mother. When his mother saw Avedi’s mom crying loudly in the waiting room, she put her hand on her mouth and said, “No!”
She immediately began crying and hugged Avedis’ mom. They embraced each other, and both of them cried loudly.
“I can not imagine what it would feel like if I lost my son, I feel your pain!” Bobby’s mother yelled as she and Avedis’ mom hugged tightly and cried together.
Hearing a mother’s heart break because of the death of her son is something I will never forget.
Around 30 minutes later, the room began to calm. Mrs Garcia was exhausted from crying. The nurse had given her Avedis’s possessions from his pockets, which was his pocket knife with the wooden handle. I remember how she looked at it, holding it in her hand. She then put it away, got up, and slowly started walking around to talk to people in the room. Her demeanor was peaceful, as if she could feel everyone else’s pain.
There was a calmness in the room as she slowly walked around with her arms crossed, casually acknowledging everyone there.
She was no longer crying. She slowly approached me. Although I was crying earlier, it was the kind of tears that came out gently.
Mrs Garcia could feel my pain as she stood in front of me and calmly said, “We forgot about you… that was his friend.” As she put her hand on my back, she slowly began rubbing it.
I could no longer hold it in. She felt the sadness that I was holding inside, and the second she put her hand on my back, I began to weep. My breathing was out of control, and I could no longer hold it inside as the reality set in that Avedis was gone.
Although she was the one who lost her son, she kept her composure, as her motherly instincts comforted me for several minutes.
It was a quiet ride home as the Garcias took me home that night.
I walked into my house, and my mother and sister were sitting in the living room watching TV.
“He died. Avedis died.” That’s all I could say as I slowly walked to my room, shut the door, and lay on my bed. I was still in shock.
Then suddenly, my mother knocked on my door. When I opened it, she was standing there with my phone in her hand, the cord wrapped around it.
“I want you to be able to talk to your friends during this time,” my mother said, handing me my phone.
I said “thank you” and was grateful my mother was giving my phone back. It was odd not being able to call Avedis.
The following week, so many kids at school were in shock when they heard the news.
Avedis was already well-known by many, and for the kids who didn’t know him, they would say, “The kid with the muscles?!”
My other friends and I did everything we could to honor him in any way possible after the funeral. It’s So Hard to Say Goodbye to Yesterday, by Boyz II Men, was the song we played.
The day before the accident.
In those times, we didn’t have phones with camera rolls. I obtained one of Avedis’ pictures, which his brother Carlos took of him, and had 30 copies made. I gave them to the kids I knew would want to remember him.
Kids were also coming up to me at school, asking, “Are you the one who has pictures of Avedis?” And even if I did not know them well, I would give them one.
Then, in the hall, Bobby told me about a VHS tape they had made the day before the accident. “Yes, we made a tape the day before, Avedis is on it, and I got him to take off his shirt to flex,” Bobby said.
Avedis was not one to be a showoff; he had a humble spirit. I only had one picture of him, and I couldn’t believe Bobby was telling me he had him on camera.
Bobby made two copies of this tape. I suspect either him or Jason Adams wrote his name on the tapes. I gave one to the Garcia family and kept the other in my fireproof safe for 32 years.
The tape that I am sharing is very sacred. VHS camcorders were not yet common in every household, and kids did not always have access to them. Although Avedis is only recorded for around 45 seconds, it is the day before the last day he was on this earth. He was 14 in this video, and he had achieved this same physique by the time he was 13. This tape is a flashback to the 90s, capturing the magic of how Avedis impressed other 14-year-olds with his humble spirit. If you knew him personally, I hope you appreciate being able to see him in this video.
Six months have passed. I was in my room when I thought I heard Mrs Garcia’s voice. I went to the living room. I saw Mrs Garcia standing inside our house, with her back up against the front door.
She had been there for a little while, talking to my mother. “Look who’s here,” my mother said.
Mrs Garcia said, “I was just driving by, thinking about Avedis, and I wanted to see how you were doing,” as she put her hand on her heart.
“I’m doing okay,” I said. I was so happy to see her. We talked for a little bit, and that was the last time I saw Mrs. Garcia.
Avedis was cremated, so the Garcias could take him with them when they moved away from Copperas Cove, TX. Although there was no grave I could visit to pay my respects, I understood.
These days, when I get a compliment or a question about how I got into fitness, I rarely tell the whole story because it’s much deeper than most would realize.
It all started with one simple word: “Talk.” A small gesture, a quiet moment in a noisy cafeteria, and suddenly, two kids were no longer strangers. That one word opened a door to a friendship that would shape the rest of my life. Looking back, it reminds me how powerful the smallest moments can be. How a wave, a smile, or a shared love for video games can become something unforgettable. Avedis taught me more than how to lift weights. He taught me how to stand strong beside someone and live with heart.
Although time has passed, some memories remain crystal clear, as if they happened yesterday. I still carry Avedis with me, not just in my memories, but in every act of strength, every moment I choose to do better, and every time I remind someone else that they are capable of getting stronger.
He may have only walked this earth for a short time, but the footprints he left behind are permanent. This story is for him and for every person who helped shape us into who we are, even if they couldn’t stay for the whole journey.
-Gilbert
