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Nacho, as I remember him – always smiling and always playful.

If we define a friend as Emerson does, as “someone before whom we may think aloud,” then by all measures, Nacho was everyone’s friend. He was always present and always willing to listen, no matter if you wanted to talk about technology, social movements, or how unfair it was that rhetoric comprehensive exams cut into your winter break. While time with him may have seemed scarce, the moments I spent in his office felt endless. A conversation would stretch on for what seemed like days, and often take place in only an hour.

Nacho truly could manipulate time.  He was someone that was constantly moving and constantly involved with others, but not in a selfish way. His time was divided between his family, his peers, and his students, and not once in the time that I knew him did I ever feel rushed. If Nacho was selfish, I never knew it.

As a Professor, his job was to help guide and shape those in both the classroom and the community he was a part of, and Nacho took that job very seriously. His classroom was always a place of learning, of the honest interrogation of ideas and truths, even if those ideas were not a part of the day’s plan. Nacho rarely shied away from a topic, and spoke with the same reverence to those who agreed with him and who were challenging him, for to him, all people deserved our kindness and our attention.

Nacho was not only an active member of the rhetoric department, but he was active in the Willamette community at large, serving on a number of boards and committees during his tenure there. His influence was visible in the way that his students and peers interacted, engaging with each other positively, always hoping to see the best in others. While he played these different roles and held various titles, he was always Nacho – always caring, always open, always present.

His passing is something that I have had significant trouble grappling with. My heart goes out to Michelle, Terra and Phoenix, for there is a hole in their lives that no one will be able to fill. I mourn for the Willamette community, for those who knew him and experienced his guidance, as we will never again be greeted with that smile or perspective.

But this moment also has allowed me some happiness, for I rejoice in seeing the kind and beautiful words of those whose lives he touched. I am moved by the classmates I knew, for I see that the kind and compassionate Nacho I experienced was something shared by many. I see that in this moment of tremendous pain, we have come together to honor and give praise for one of the greatest gifts any of us have thus experienced in our lives.

I often told Nacho he was like a father to me, not because he was there to scold me, but because he constantly pushed me to be a better person. He was always a voice of hope and love in my life, encouraging me to live beyond my own experiences and show compassion to others, whoever they were.  He reminded me that although we communicate with each other through words, there are too few words for the human experience, and that life is meant to be experienced, not explained.

Nacho may not be with us as he once was, but he lives on in all of us. A piece of him resides in each of us that knew him, for he touched all of our lives and that imprint will last forever. In this time of loss, those pieces of Nacho are bringing us all together, so that we may remind each other what Nacho taught us, and we may in turn teach others.

Nacho was a father, a husband, a lover, a professor, a friend, and many other things, because Nacho was whoever we needed him to be. If we want to truly honor him, we will look outside of ourselves and ask how we may show others the compassion and love that Nacho has shown all of us.

Tags: Nacho, Nacho Cordova, Willamette, Willamette University