49 Candles

My third official podcast was published on August 1st, 2021, entitled What Our Families Taught Us About Death - Vol. 1. I wondered for a long time why I had the volume there, but there is always a continuation to the story. The episode was about my dear uncle, Unildo Mendes, who passed away in a car accident when he was 22 years old. It shattered the whole family and I described us as never being the same again, still trying to pick up the pieces from that fateful day. So justifiably, that first episode was indeed somber — but today I want to share the joy of the life he gave to so many who still remember him.

I went out to grab a bite to eat by myself last night and a group of women came in to celebrate one of their friends. I know one of them and as we chatted intermittently from across the way, she said something to the tune of: “you always remind me of your uncle, I will never forget him.” She gave me a hug before leaving and I told her that tomorrow — today — would have been his 49th birthday. Going there on a whim and having her walk in and mention him out of the blue gave me a tremendous sense of serendipity. Nothing lost, always gained. Each thing informs the next. What has shaped you? I may have forgotten a lot about my past and I hope it comes back one day, but certain things I can never forget.

There is a direct link from my father to my uncle to myself. My father was his older brother and from his days back home in Cabo Verde, he was always into music — albums, a record player, countless genres. His listening habits, and later recording music himself, had a profound effect on my uncle. I lived with my uncle, my grandmother, and my aunt for roughly three years when I was displaced for a time. My family rallied to make sure I always felt at home, far away from my mother — much to both our dismay. He and I shared a room and a bed, such are the circumstances for the have nots. There were two posters above our bed — one of Snoop Dogg and one of Michael Bolton. There may have been a third, but I guess it didn’t leave as indelible a mark.

Growing up in a home where concert-sized JBL speakers blared everything from Michael Jackson to James Brown, Queen to Bob Marley, Enigma to traditional Cabo Verdean music and everything in between — and then living with my uncle, who took on the mantle of exploring sound in the same fearless fashion — shaped me in ways I am still discovering. The idea that someone who looks like us should be limited in what we listen to was never something I was aware of until later in life. By then, it didn’t matter. I thank them both for that. My life’s quest of feeling truly free was first felt in music. It means everything to me.

I put together a playlist that captures the sounds from my uncle’s time around me — whether I was living with him or not — just songs that remind me of those years. Maybe it was all so simple then. The version going live today likely won’t be the last. I didn’t have much time to work on it until yesterday, woken up unwittingly at 5am, so some tinkering after is to be expected.

To all the families who lost someone and buried the words because it was too painful to face — talk about them. Keep their spirit alive and close. We don’t die, we just transform. Be well.

—Wilson Admir Barbosa Mendes Vaz · July 31, 2026