Five days. That’s all that separated him from another year, another birthday, another moment surrounded by love, laughter, and the people who meant everything to him. If time were something that could be bargained with, it would be traded for just one more celebration—one more chance to see his face light up, to hear his laughter ring through the air, to say the words that now feel too small, yet hold the entire weight of a life forever cherished.

His family says, if they could simply say one last thing to them, it would be "I love you."

Victor walked through the world with a quiet strength, carrying kindness like it was second nature. He was respectful—not out of habit, but because he meant it. He understood the value of treating people well, of making others feel like they mattered. And he did, in ways too deep to measure.

He should still be here. His story should have had more pages, more birthdays, more moments spent with the ones who love him. But love like his doesn’t dissolve into nothingness. It stays, stitched into the memories he left behind, into the warmth he gave so effortlessly, into the hearts that will never stop carrying him forward.

Victor is not just a name in the past. He is here, in every person who remembers him, in the echoes of laughter, in the love that refuses to fade. Gone, but never forgotten.