Notes for Victor John Villoza: I had the good fortune to live with my uncle and aunt in Venezuela for a while where I developed a relationship that made me feel a part of the family, not a cousin but a son and a brother Uncle Victor and Aunt Joyce made no distinctions between us. We were a family; Victor was indeed the father I wished I had. My uncle was also a wise man, an intelligent man. I remember once I told my uncle that I had taken every bit of advice he had ever given me, it had just taken 10 to 20 years to implement it. He and I both laughed when I said this. But there is something in this story and that something is that he allowed us to fumble the ball, to make mistakes and to screw up. He would make his opinions known but he let us go our own ways and make our own mistakes and I knew his love for us even if we didn't follow what he wanted for us. To me that is loving wisdom. His final moment, made me reach back frantically, for that little boy again. Because somehow I felt that becoming the boy again would restore my uncle to the life long presence and image I still keep of him Dreading, I guess the knowledge his death at 88 gave me. That with his passing we must now become adults grown men and women. Because whatever you think, as long as our parents are with us, we are their children. So I would call relentlessly in my blinding sorrow, Pop, Pop Until he had disappeared! Gone forever! I guess this reckoning remains so strong, because I am already 62 years old. In a life filled with challenge and confrontation. I have brought three children into the world, so that I, myself, am a long time father, and that relationship is not strange to me. When I lost my aunt in 2001, and then my dear mother just a year ago, I understood there was an intimacy a knowing of me by someone else that was lost forever. But at this loss there is another realization, even now bizarre to me. Because at 62, I have never been without an elder family member. A point of origin- A source of Love and shared emotion that we all who can feel the unparalleled sensitivity that binds us to those who have actually given us the gift of life, must be understood! But now, what? Not only was one of the most precious living sources of memory and affection removed. But we could not even prove we were once fragile children with the promise of the world before us, protectively nestled in the arms of some beings we loved as intensely as life itself. For me, Victor Villoza, my uncle, was one of the measures, with my aunt, Joyce, I used to judge and understand the world & myself. I thought, for instance, that my mother & my aunt Joyce were the two most beautiful women in the world. I thought as well, that my uncle surely was one of the most intelligent persons in the world. He could even fix electronic devices and small appliances, He knew facts and stories, histories, and told jokes that obviously were among the funniest and most wisdom filled in existence. My uncle was also a man who knew how to build bridges. To connect things and to bless things. When I was in my uncle 's presence I felt his blessing and a connection to him. While my aunt was open and vivacious, plain spoken and direct, my uncle with his soft voice, and wise eyes played backup and confirmation for my aunt’s prescriptions. She was my social consciousness, he was my earthly guide, and how I planted my two feet on the ground. If my aunt nurtured my forming vision, it was my uncle who casually insisted that it only had value in the real world. One thing that will always animate my deepest memory of my uncle is that he had a deep love for building things with his hands. No doubt that is where I got mine, I think I can speak for all of my cousins when I say that we always knew within our family that we were loved. It was not just us; young people would come up to my uncle to be listened to, to be heard and to be understood. Both my aunt and uncle had the capacity to be with someone and to hear him or her without judgment. Maybe a little judgment but not much. I don't know about around here but where we grew up that's a rare commodity you don't see it very much. I was blessed to be there. Victor Villoza came to Canada from Venezuela, where he had migrated from Trinidad in the 40’s, from a rather sad and humble youth, as both his parents died when he was quite young, He was a man driven by ambition, and was not daunted by the adversities that confronted him in those early years. He had a dream and passion for adventure and Venezuela made many of his dreams a reality. In those halcyon days of the 60’s there were always social gatherings parties, meetings at our house. Together Victor & Joyce were a highly sociable couple, entertaining guests, going to happy cocktail parties and belonging to various clubs and organizations that aimed to improve their lives and at the same time create some fellowship and good feeling. By far the biggest feeling I have had has been gratefulness. Gratefulness to have stood in the shade of my Uncle's tree. Because to me my uncle was like a tree in many ways. An oak tree. An oak who's taproot was anchored in faith and in the Divine, and with branches and leaves that act as a home for those around. I stood in that home and for that I am so grateful. It's an experience that I wish I could condense into a couple of words and then tell you. People I talk to say sometimes "I guess you can't expect your family to be like the Brady Bunch." I don't have the heart to tell them that I wouldn't ever trade my family for that, nor for anyone. It was an incredible experience to grow up in my family with my uncle and Aunt. My Uncle’s tree was stable, you couldn't push it, and it was strong. It was a place for everyone around him to glow. He wanted others to glow. He enjoyed and reveled in the glow of everyone around him...not only his own. It is a beautiful thing for a man to be able to do that. I honor him for that. And boy, do I feel a little dwarfed by comparison. Some time ago I told him, "George, for that is what I sometimes called him, you have always done things so deliberately and calmly you have been a great role model for us. I just feel so overwhelmed by trying to follow in your footsteps." He looked at me and motioned with his hand as if throwing a ball at me and said, "Oh you're all right." Somehow that "oh you're all right" was the biggest blessing. There is one last reason the oak tree is a good symbol for my uncle. Acorns. To me acorns are a sign of my uncle and all of his blessings I have spoken of, plus a lot more. All of his blessings are left as seeds, which can sprout, now on their own. When I see an acorn now I'll think of my uncle, remember his blessings and try to pass on the seed to others."
More About Victor John Villoza and Joyce Agatha Diaz: Marriage: December 11, 1941, Trinidad WI.
Children of Victor John Villoza and Joyce Agatha Diaz are:
Victor John Villoza (b. February 19, 1918, d. April 26, 2006)
Notes for Victor John Villoza: