Inuulirijut Michael, Gabriel, ammalu Raphael

Nathanael-up inuusia, silataani, takujaujuq. Jesus-up uqaqtuq, 'Takujara uvani, Nathanael, iluani, iluani, iluani.' Nathanael-up, uqaqtuq, 'Qanuq qaujimajunga?' Jesus-up uqaqtuq, 'Philip-up tuqullugu, takujara, uvani, uvani, fig-up iluani.' Taanna inuusiq, taanna inuusiq, taanna inuusiq. Benjamin Vo, 15-nik ukiuqaqtilluni, inuusiqaqtilluni, inuit takulaurtangit silataani. Benjamin, taanna inuusiq, taanna inuusiq, taanna inuusiq. Benjamin-up inuusia, 15-nik ukiuqaqtilluni, inuusiqaqtilluni, inuit takulaurtangit silataani. Taanna inuusiq, taanna inuusiq. Benjamin, taanna inuusiq, taanna 'con chim airlines'-mik kinguvaqtaaq, taanna inuusiq, taanna inuusiq. Benjamin-up inuusia, taanna 'masterpiece-ngulluni', uummataup salumajunianik ammalu asijinik asujinik tatatitaulluni. Benjamin-up inuusia, taanna 15-nik ukiuqaqtilluni, inuit takulaurtangit silataani: silatualuuniranga, mathematics-mi pialuktuuninga, coding-mi ammalu technology-mi qaujimaninga. Taakkua pitsiaqtut, silataani qaumajut. Kisiani, Benjamin-up inuusia sanningajuup ujaqqatut tomb-tut ippunngilaq. Ben-up uummanga light-vallaalaurpuq, open-vallaalaurpuq, free-vallaalaurpuq. Ben-up uummanga walk-laurpuq Ataniup aqqutingitigut with a pure, simple heart.

'You will see heaven opened and the angels of God ascending and descending on the Son of Man.' Think of the fig tree. Think of the quiet, hidden place where Nathanael sat, thinking he was unseen, yet knowing that the Gaze of God was upon him. Benjamin was a boy who lived in that gaze. He was the boy who sat in the airport terminal with his brother Ryan, his eyes bright with the anticipation of the next flight, the next horizon. He was the boy who sat on the floor during game night, his mind sharp as a diamond, his heart as soft as a summer cloud. He did not need to be the loudest in the room to be the most present. He was the boy who dreamed of 'con chim airlines,' not because he wanted to own the sky, but because he wanted to share the wonder of the flight with everyone he loved.

Alan, Thao, Ryan—I know the weight of the air when you walk into a room he used to inhabit. I know the way the silence can feel like a solid thing, a wall you cannot climb. But remember today, on the feast of the Archangels, that the veil is thinner than we think. The angels, those messengers of God who ascend and descend, are not just in the pages of Daniel or the Gospel. They are the bridge between the 'now' and the 'forever.' When you feel that sudden, sharp ache for Benjamin, do not think of it as a distance. Think of it as a connection. He is not far away. He is in the light, in the place where the 'Ancient One' sits in glory, and he is watching over you with the same gentle, curious smile he wore on that sunny day in Paris, sitting on the bench with the Eiffel Tower behind him.

Ryan, my dear brother, you were his partner in every adventure. You know the way he looked at the world. You know the way he giggled when he talked about his plans. When you feel lonely, remember that you are not just a brother who misses him; you are a brother who carries his light. You are the one who knows the depth of his kindness. Keep living, keep exploring, keep looking at the sky with the same wonder that Ben had. He is cheering for you. He is waiting for you, not in a way that makes this life less important, but in a way that makes every moment of it precious.

To all who loved Benjamin: do not let the world tell you that a life is measured by its length. A life is measured by the love it leaves behind. Benjamin’s life was a 'masterpiece'—a brilliant, clean, and beautiful reflection of God’s own heart. He was a boy who, without being asked, offered his entire piggy bank to help an uncle. That is the heart of a saint. That is the heart of a boy who understood that we are all, in the end, just children of God, looking for a place to rest our heads.

Today, I want to say to you, especially to Alan and Thao, that there is no 'missing' in the eyes of God. He saw Ben under the fig tree. He sees you now, in your tears, in your quiet prayers, in the moments when you feel you cannot go on. He is holding you. He is the one who, like the angels in Jacob's dream, is constantly moving between heaven and earth to bring you comfort. You are not alone. You have never been alone.

Take this out the door today: When you look up at the sky, or when you see an airplane climbing into the clouds, remember that Benjamin is part of that vast, beautiful mystery. He is free. He is whole. He is with the angels, singing the praises of the Lord. And he is waiting for the day when you will all be together again, in the place where there is no more waiting, no more distance, only the joy of the Banquet. Let us hold onto that hope, and let us live, each day, as if we are already standing in the light of that eternal, beautiful, and loving Gaze.