Rene.blog

Life doesn’t whisper.
It teaches.

Life doesn’t always give gentle hints. Most of the time, the lessons come through pain, loss, mistakes, and uncomfortable moments that force you to grow. The whispers are easy to ignore—but the lessons are loud. This blog is about listening to those lessons, owning them, and becoming better because of them.

  • 78

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    Today my mom turns 78.

    And this one feels different. It’s her first birthday without my dad.

    He hasn’t even been gone a year, and I know today carries a weight for her that none of us can fully carry for her. The calendar keeps moving like nothing changed. But everything changed. So today I want to do the one thing I know how to do. Say it out loud.

    I love my mom so much.

    She was one of the first people to believe in my dream of music. Long before any stage, any band, any gig, she believed. And she didn’t just say it. She showed it.

    My mom worked every single day. Never called in sick. Not once that I can remember.

    I remember being in high school and having one of the worst saxophones in the whole section. I’d sit there next to guys with great horns, doing the best I could with what I had. Then in my junior year, she and my brother Jesse surprised me with a brand new professional saxophone.

    I’ll never forget that moment.

    That horn wasn’t just an instrument. It was a seed. And because of what she sowed into my life, I was able to earn a scholarship to Berklee College of Music. Everything I’ve done in music since then traces back to a mother who believed in her son enough to sacrifice for him.

    Mom, I’m so grateful for you. Thank you for believing in me.

    ⸻

    Honoring Dad

    Since Dad passed, one question has stayed on my mind. How do I honor him?

    I’ve thought about so many different ways. But I keep coming back to the same answer. The thing that would make him proudest is taking care of his wife. My mom. His Terecita.

    Because he loved her with everything inside of him. Anyone who knew him knew that.

    So by taking care of her, I’m honoring him to the fullest.

    There are still things I want to do for her. One day I want to take care of her completely, 100%. That’s what I’m striving for, and I hope to make it true soon.

    Dad, I know you’re still looking out for her. Put in a good word for me up there so I can keep taking care of her the way you always did.

    ⸻

    Don’t Stop This Train

    I was just traveling with my brother Matt, and we were listening to music. Somewhere in the conversation we realized we both have a song that reminds us of our parents. He told me it had brought him to tears.

    What he doesn’t know is it’s done the same thing to me.

    “Stop This Train” by John Mayer.

    There’s a part where John talks to his father, asking him to help him make sense of it all. His dad tells him to wait until he turns 68, and then he’ll renegotiate. That number hits Matt in a special way, because his dad was 68 when he passed.

    And the way I hear it, the dad is basically saying you never really make peace with time. You just keep renegotiating with it as you go. And the train keeps moving anyway.

    That’s the part that gets us both.

    Because as much as we want to stop, as much as we want to slow it all down, life keeps moving.

    The thing I’ve learned is this: don’t ever hold back.

    Tell the people you love that you love them. Even if you think it might be annoying. Say it anyway.

    When you’re with the important people in your life, be present. Take in the moment. Feel their energy. Look into their eyes.

    Life is so beautiful.

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    Mom, I honor you.

    I love you. And if I had a choice to pick another mother, I would choose you again and again.

    Thank you for teaching me how to truly love. To show love through acts of service, through words of affirmation, and by just showing up for people. Every single day.

    Happy birthday, Mom. Te quiero mucho.

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  • Dad’s First Heavenly Birthday

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    Today is my dad’s first heavenly birthday.

    I keep saying it that way because it feels more true than “would have been.” He’s not gone, he’s just somewhere else now, celebrating this day in a way I can’t fully picture yet. But I don’t think anyone tells you how strange the day still feels down here. The calendar doesn’t know anything changed. He’s not here to call, not here to show up to, not here to bring some Whataburger to, his favorite.

    I got someone to cover my shift so I could be off today. Family and I are meeting at his graveside to be close to him and to each other. It felt important, even if I wasn’t totally sure what I’d do with the time. Turns out I didn’t need a plan. I just needed the space to sit with him a little.

    I’ve been thinking a lot about who he was to me, not just as my dad but as a man. The way he carried himself. The things he said without saying much at all. The lessons that didn’t feel like lessons at the time and now I realize were the whole point. I picked up more from him than I probably ever told him, and that’s the part that gets me. There’s things I want to say to him that I just can’t say anymore, not the way I used to.

    I can’t forget that smirk of a smile he’d give you, the way he’d look you dead in the eye with that twinkle in his own. He looked at me that way. He looked at my mom that way. He looked at everyone he loved that way. I can still hear his voice saying te quiero mucho mi Renecito. I miss you so much, Dad. All those lessons, all that love, I get to pass it on to my own kids now. That’s how you stay with us.

    Grief is strange like that. It’s not one feeling, it’s a bunch of them taking turns. Some moments today I’ve felt sad. Some moments I’ve felt grateful. Some moments I’ve just felt him close, like he’s still somewhere in the room. I believe he is, honestly. I believe this isn’t really goodbye, just a different kind of distance.

    I don’t have some neat way to wrap this up. I just wanted to mark the day. To say his name. To let myself miss him out loud instead of just carrying it quiet.

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    Happy birthday, Dad. I love you. I’ll see you again.

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  • Twenty

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    My son Alex turned 20 on July 14th, and I’ve been sitting with that number for a few days now.

    Twenty. Not a kid anymore, not fully grown into whatever he’s going to become, but standing right there in that in-between space where you can see the man he’s turning into. It sneaks up on you, watching your kids grow. One day you’re teaching them to ride a bike in the parking lot of Lakeshore elementary, and the next you’re looking at someone who has their own opinions, their own path, their own life starting to take shape right in front of you.

    I think about all the versions of Alex I’ve gotten to know over the years — the little boy, the teenager figuring things out, and now this young man stepping into his twenties. Every stage has taught me something different about him, and honestly, about myself too. Fatherhood has a way of doing that. It humbles you. It stretches you. It shows you who you are when nobody’s watching.

    Twenty is a good age to reflect. It’s old enough to look back and see how far you’ve come, and young enough that the road ahead still feels wide open. I hope Alex knows that whatever he chooses to build his life around, he’s got a foundation under him, family, faith, people who love him — that isn’t going anywhere.

    I’ve said this before about my kids and I’ll keep saying it: my proudest title isn’t anything I’ve done on a stage or in a fire truck or in business. 

    It’s being their dad. Watching Alex hit 20 is a reminder of how fast this all moves, and how much I want to stay present for every bit of it.

    Happy birthday, Alex. Proud of who you are and excited for who you’re becoming. And thank you for always having such an amazing heart. Love you, son.

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  • Naelen-Joel Turns 17: A Letter to My Son and a Reflection on Time 

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    There’s a milestone I track every year that most people don’t know about — and it has nothing to do with a badge or a promotion. It’s my son’s birthday. May 18th 2009

    Naelen-Joel was born just before I graduated from the Houston Fire Department academy. So every year when he blows out his candles, I’m also quietly marking another year of service. Seventeen candles this year. Seventeen years on the job. The two are inseparable in my mind, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

    Watching him grow up has been one of the greatest privileges of my life. And now here we are — he’s heading into his junior year, starting to look at colleges, beginning to dream out loud about what his future looks like. That shift from boy to young man is something no one fully prepares you for as a dad. You just try to stay present enough to witness it.

    So Naelen, if you ever stumble across this post, and I hope you do, here’s what I want you to know at 17.

    Be patient. The world is going to move fast and loud, and it’s going to tell you that you need to have it all figured out right now. You don’t. The best things in life, real ones, lasting ones, take time to build. Trust the process even when you can’t see the finish line.

    Stay close to God. Not because life will always be easy if you do, but because you’ll need an anchor when it isn’t. Faith isn’t a backup plan. It’s the foundation. Build on it.

    Character matters more than credentials. You can get into the right school, land the right job, and still end up lost if you don’t know who you are. The colleges you’re looking at, they matter. But what matters more is the person walking through those doors. Protect your integrity. Lead with kindness. Be someone people can count on.

    I became a firefighter and a father around the same time, and both have taught me the same thing: showing up consistently is the most powerful thing you can do. I’ve tried to show up for you every year, every season. I’ll keep doing that.

    Happy 17th, son. I’m proud of you. Being your dad is one of my greatest honors.

    Dad

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  • Chad LB Live in Houston: Worth Every Moment

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    After the show in Houston  ·  @chadlbsax  ·  @reornelas84  ·  @photomatt

    Some experiences are worth the wait, and finally watching Chad LB perform live was exactly that.

    A few years back, my brother Matt gifted me a masterclass with Chad for my birthday, and that was my introduction to his world. From that moment, I was hooked. Chad has the perfect combination of fluid jazz language and so much soul in his playing. I had tried to catch him perform live with Chris Botti in New York, but every single show was sold out. So when the opportunity came to watch him perform right here in our hometown of Houston and share that moment with Matt, it felt like everything had finally come together the way it was supposed to.

    If you know music, you already know Chad LB is a phenomenal saxophone player. That part is no secret. His command of the instrument, his stage presence, the way he moves through a performance — it is all on another level. But what I did not expect was the person behind the talent.

    He is one of the nicest, most genuine guys you will ever come across.

    After the show, I had the pleasure of giving Chad and his crew a ride back, and that car ride gave me a glimpse into who he really is. What struck me most was how knowledgeable he is about life beyond music. The conversation flowed naturally and covered so much ground. You could tell this is a man who is curious, grounded, and intentional about everything he does.

    If you have not listened to Chad LB yet, do yourself a favor and go check him out right now.

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  • Spring Break in Vegas
    with My Kids

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    There is something different about traveling with your kids as they get older. It is not just about where you go anymore, it is about what you experience together.

    We took a trip out to Las Vegas and it ended up being one of those trips I know I will always remember.

    One of the first stops we had to make was the original Chicken Shack.

    For those of you that know, I actually owned one back in Houston around the end of 2018 into 2019. Walking into that spot again brought back a lot of memories for me. The kids had not had it in years, so they were excited. And honestly, it still hits. So good. It was one of those full circle moments for me.

    We also got to go see the Michael Jackson ONE show by Cirque du Soleil.

    Man, that show was on another level. The music, the visuals, the dancing, everything was done with so much intention. It is not just a show, it really feels like an experience. Watching the kids sit there locked in, smiling, laughing, just enjoying every second of it, that was probably my favorite part.

    If you are ever in Vegas, I highly recommend it

    https://www.cirquedusoleil.com/michael-jackson-one

    But if I had to pick the highlight of the whole trip, it was the Hoover Dam.

    Seeing it in person for the first time is different. Pictures do not do it justice. The scale of it, the history, the way it is built, it really makes you stop and take it all in. We did the full tour which was about an hour and a half and even went down into the tunnels. Being inside something that massive, knowing it was built back in the 1930s, it gives you a whole new level of respect for what people are capable of. My friend Esther said it best “Such an amazing feat of human engineering”

    More than anything though, it was just being there with my kids. Experiencing it together. Laughing, learning, just enjoying the moment.

    That is what I will remember the most.

    If you ever want to check it out, here is the tour info

    Grateful for time like this

    Grateful for them

    Grateful for the journey

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    with My Kids

  • 42

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    Today I turn 42.

    Birthdays used to mean something different to me. When I was younger, they were about celebrating, being surrounded by friends, maybe making a little noise and enjoying the moment. But as life moves forward, birthdays begin to feel more like a checkpoint than a party.

    A moment to pause.

    A moment to look back.

    And a moment to ask yourself where you’re going next.

    This past year has been one of the most challenging seasons of my life.

    I lost my dad.

    Anyone who has lost a parent understands the weight of that moment. There’s something about it that shifts the ground underneath you. My dad was more than just my father, he was someone I admired so much. He worked hard, he loved his family, and he showed me what it meant to keep moving forward no matter what life throws at you.

    Losing him has left a space in my life that will never fully be filled.

    But in the middle of grief, I’ve also found something else—gratitude.

    Gratitude for the time we had.

    Gratitude for the lessons he passed down to me.

    And gratitude that I now get the opportunity to carry those lessons forward to my own children.

    If there’s one thing becoming a father has taught me, it’s that time moves incredibly fast.

    One day you’re holding your kids in your arms, and before you know it they’re growing into their own lives, their own dreams, their own journeys. Watching my children grow has been one of the greatest blessings of my life.

    Everything I do, in many ways, is for them.

    To show them what perseverance looks like.

    To show them what faith looks like.

    To show them what it means to keep going even when life doesn’t go the way you expected.

    This year has also been a year of reflection for me.

    There have been moments of deep pain. Moments where I’ve had to face parts of my life and heart that I didn’t fully understand before. Moments where I had to admit that healing doesn’t happen overnight.

    But through all of it, my faith has become more important than ever.

    I’m learning that sometimes the most powerful thing you can do is simply let go and trust God with the things you can’t control.

    Not easy.

    But necessary.

    At 42, I don’t have everything figured out.

    But I do know a few things.

    I know that close friends and family matters more than anything.

    I know that time is the most valuable thing we have.

    And I know that the love we give to others is the legacy we leave behind.

    This blog, Rene.Blog, is something I started for a simple reason: I wanted to create a place where I could document life. The lessons, the stories, the moments that matter.

    Not just for me.

    But for my kids one day.

    So that they can look back and understand who their dad was, what he believed in, and how deeply he loved them.

    If the past few years have taught me anything, it’s that life is fragile.

    But it’s also incredibly beautiful.

    So today, at 42, I’m grateful.

    Grateful for another year.

    Grateful for my family.

    Grateful for the lessons life continues to teach me.

    I’m also deeply grateful for the people God has placed in my life to walk with me through both the good seasons and the difficult ones.

    My mom, who has always been a source of strength, love, and sacrifice for our family. Watching her resilience reminds me every day what unconditional love truly looks like.

    And my brother Matt, who has stood by me through so many chapters of life. True friendship is rare, and I’m grateful for the loyalty, encouragement, and laughter and good times we’ve shared over the years.

    Life isn’t meant to be walked alone, and I’m thankful for the people who have helped carry me through moments when the road felt heavy.

    ⸻

    A Message to My Kids

    Before I close this birthday reflection, I want to leave a few words for the three people who mean the most to me in this world.

    Alex, Naelen, and Ellie.

    You three are the greatest blessing God has ever given me. Being your father is the most important role I will ever have in this life.

    Alex, you were the one who made me a dad. Watching you grow into a young man has been one of the proudest experiences of my life. At 19, you’re stepping into your own journey now, and I want you to know that I believe in you. Be courageous, be kind, and always stay true to who you are.

    Naelen, you have such a thoughtful spirit and a strong mind. I love watching the way you’re growing and discovering your passions. Never stop learning and never doubt that you’re capable of doing great things in this world.

    Ellie, my girl, you bring so much light and joy into our family. Your kindness and your heart are beautiful gifts. I pray that you always remember how strong and special you are, and that you never let the world dim the light that God placed inside of you.

    If there is one thing I want all three of you to remember, it’s this:

    Life will not always be easy. There will be moments that test you and moments that challenge your faith. But never forget that God is always with you, and that your family will always be here for you.

    Everything I do in this life is rooted in the love I have for you.

    And no matter how old you get or where life takes you, you will always have a father who loves you more than words can ever fully express.

    So today, as I turn 42, I move forward with gratitude, faith, and hope for everything that still lies ahead. God has taken care of us this far and I hope it only keeps getting better.

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  • Honoring My Dad

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    I’ve been wanting to start this blog for a long time, and as I sat down to write my very first post, I knew exactly who it had to be about — my dad.

    After the loss of my dad, I got to thinking about how I also wanted to leave something behind for my kids, family, friends, and loved ones. At his funeral, I had so many people come up to me and tell me stories about how my dad made small, kind gestures toward families and people without ever wanting recognition.

    One person in particular shared with me that my dad went to a local store, bought essential household items and groceries, and dropped them off to a family of a single mother who was struggling. No one knew. He didn’t tell anyone. He didn’t tell us. He just did it.

    That story stayed with me.

    Something I had put off for so long was starting this blog. But after hearing those stories, this was all the motivation I needed.

    I want my kids, Alex, Naelen-Joel, and Ellie — along with my family and friends, to have a digital footprint of me. My thoughts. My writing. My experiences. My lessons. My faith. I want there to be something they can return to long after I’m gone. A place where my voice still exists.

    March 5 will be two months since my dad has gone to heaven. And I miss him so much.

    I still hear his voice in my head calling me “Mi Renecito.” I still see the way he would look at my mom with so much love in his eyes. It was so strong and tangible,  the love that he had for my mom.

    Loved ones remain present through memory. They stay alive as long as they are remembered and spoken of.

    Two of my favorite quotes say it best:

    “To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die.” — Thomas Campbell

    “Every man has two deaths… No one is ever forgotten until the last person speaks their name.” — Ernest Hemingway

    Here’s to honoring you and your legacy, Dad. I will never stop speaking your name. You will always live in my heart. I love you and miss you so much. I can’t wait to see you again one day. I’m so grateful that you’re in my future and not just in my past.

    And to my brother Matt — thank you for helping me bring this blog to life, and for the tribute you wrote for my dad. It touched my heart in ways I can’t even put into words. I love you.

    Eulogy from My Dad’s Memorial Service

    January 13, 2026

    Good afternoon, I’m Rene, my dad’s youngest son. It is my honor and my heartache to stand here before you and share about the life of my dad. Today, we gather together not only to celebrate my father, but to honor the legacy of a man whose love shaped our family, whose sacrifices built our foundation and whose presence will continue to guide us even in his absence. I’ve asked myself so many times throughout the last week preparing for this, how do you say goodbye to someone who has shaped every part of who you are? The answer I’ve come to is that you say goodbye by trusting that this isn’t the end— that love outlives loss, and that heaven holds what our hearts are aching for. I believe that is hope we can all hold onto.

    At his core, my dad was the kind of man who made sure his family was always taken care of, he was an extremely hard worker, and steady through and through. It wasn’t just empty words, he showed through his actions daily. One of the things he was so well known for was the love he had for our mom.

    When it came to our mom- his Terecita- he was the ultimate husband. A true romantic. If it was cold outside, he made sure her car was warmed up before she left for work. If she cooked, he washed the dishes and cleaned the stove. My brothers and I have vivid memories of him dancing with her in the living room, bringing her flowers, loving her gently faithfully and fully.

    The night my dad passed away, we couldn’t help but smile through the tears. Even in death, he was still a romantic. He took his last breath on earth and his first breath in heaven at 10:14pm, the exact month and day he asked my mom to be his girlfriend. That charm of his never left.

    My dad had a different way of showing us boys love. He was tough, and he surely would not let you tell him that you would do something later. No, he was going to make sure you did it when he told you to do it. He was teaching us discipline. But he also showed us love in the little moments with each of us. There are so many moments that stand out even more so now. Like how he would never turn down a foot race. He would see me standing at the driveway, walk over and smile and ask if I was ready. We’d count down and take off running. He would beat me every single time- that competition ran deep in his blood. I think it’s in all three of us. It wasn’t until well into my high school years that I would finally beat him. And now, that’s something I do with my own two boys.

    Another memory that I think on often is that every morning he would drive me to school at HSPVA. And without fail, on the way there, he would tell me he wasn’t going to give me lunch money. It was his way of messing with me, but when I’d get out of the car he had the money in his pocket the entire time. He’d laugh, tell me he loved me and hand me the money. I’d give anything to go back to that exact moment right now.

    Without even realizing it, I’ve been carrying him forward in the way I am with my own kids. Even in the nursing home during the latter part of his life, my dad was still raising his grandkids— because what he instilled in each of my brothers and me. His lessons didn’t stop when his strength faded.

    Even in his final moments, my dad continued to teach us what it means to live- and to love. Someone told me that it’s a privilege to watch your parents take their last breath because they had the privilege of seeing you take your first breath. And that has weighed on me heavy this week. Because I can attest to what it’s like to see your children come into this world and take that first breath of life. The thought of watching either of my parents go was a fear I never wanted to experience, but what I didn’t realize is how profound it was to be next to my dad.

    Watching him take his final breath, seeing the peace that came over him, knowing he was meeting our savior face to face and knowing that he was no longer suffering, completely changed my perspective on death. In that moment I saw him fully restored. My dad lived out teaching us how to be men, and even in his last moments he showed us how to finish strong and courageous.

    If my dad were still here today, I would want to thank him. Thank him for the sacrifices, the lessons and the love. Thank him for being our example and our hero. His body may be absent from this world, but his legacy will live on through us. We love you and we will carry you with us always dad.

    To end, there’s a quote from a book I want to leave you with. I read it recently and I’ve kept it at the forefront of my mind this week, and hopefully it’s something you can carry with you as well. It’s goes, “Love transcends space and time. It holds no bounds or limits. Love is stronger than death because if you love someone, they can never truly die.” -Alexis Patton.

    Thank you to each and every one of you for being here today. It means so much to us and our mom. And we are extremely grateful for each of you.

    Memorial Service Recording

    If you would like to watch my dad’s memorial service, here is the link:

    Funeral Photo Gallery

    Here is the link to the photos from the funeral:

    https://egidionarvaezphotography.pic-time.com/-rememberingjessjornelas/gallery

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