Sweet, witty, big teddy bear, kind, charming
Joey had a unique charm: left-handed, towering in size but gentle in nature, he had striking honey-brown eyes and beautiful curls. He never raised his voice, never stayed angry, and always approached his mom with love. Even when he snuck out with her car, he made sure to fill up the gas tank.
Joey was big-hearted, funny, deeply compassionate and kind with a sense of humor that could lift anyone’s spirits, as evidenced by the daily memes and cat videos, his mom, Leah, looked forward to receiving at work each day. Joey was a proud big brother, a devoted son, and a beloved cousin.
After his parents split, he took on the role of man of the house, caring for his siblings, making them feel protected. He made sure no one went without—if he ate, everybody ate. If a friend had a tough home life, Joey welcomed them, shared his mother’s meals, and made them feel safe and cared for.
He enjoyed simple pleasures like playing football, video games, big family get-togethers, watching his cat chase birds, and especially cooking for his siblings. Holidays were sacred in the Munoz household. Joey helped decorate every year and once lovingly told his mom, “Momma, we’re big now, I think the decorations are for you.” “And he was right,” Leah stated.
Joey was more than just sweet—he was brilliant. With an above-average IQ, he effortlessly tested out of high school and earned two of the top STAR test scores in the entire state of Texas during his sophomore year. He also earned the best lineman award, a title he carried with immense pride.
He had a lot of ideas for his future and would have been good at any of them. He was thinking of a trade school for welding or truck driving, though his ultimate passion was to pursue an engineering degree and work for himself. His first job was flipping burgers at Freddy’s and he’d joke he was like SpongeBob, happy to be a fry cook.
The last few years prior to his death, Joey was on a path of self-discovery, journaling poems and letters, growing his hair out, practicing yoga and meditation, and reflecting on what he wanted to do after turning 18. His mother told him, “When you turn 18, we can figure that out.” That statement will resonate in Leah’s heart forever.
In his last months, his mother noticed a shift. He became withdrawn, anxious, moody, and stayed in his room. His mom tried to protect him—removing door handles, tracking his location, calling constantly—doing everything she could to hold on to him.
Just six days prior to his 18th birthday, Joey lost his life to a counterfeit pill. “Never in a million years did I think I would be here without him. I always thought we had time. “I would trade every yesterday with him for every tomorrow,” Leah said. “It ruined my life then and more now. But I hold it together for my kids, to show them this isn’t the end.”
What she misses most are the everyday moments—the “Good night, Momma, I love you” and “Good morning, sunshine” from their rooms across the hall, the texts, the memes, the laughter, the cat videos. Joey will always be remembered not for how he left, but for how he lived, his compassion for people, and his sweet, humble soul.
Joey’s mother, Leah Munoz, provided the information for this narrative
December 11, 2004-December 5, 2022-Age 17
Portrait Artist: Jeremy Hebbel
Narrative Writer: Barbara Francois
