In Loving Memory of Afaese Loa

With heavy hearts and deep love, we announce the passing of our beloved uncle, Afaese “Afa” Loa—a gentle, humble, and loving man whose life was never measured by what he owned, but by what he gave to others.

Afa came from Samoa in the late 1990s and made his home here, while always carrying Samoa and his family close to his heart. Over the years, we would tease him and tell him that one day one of his brothers was going to come and get him and take him back to Samoa. Without hesitation, he would tell us, “Leai, ou te le toe alu i Samoa. O uso ma tuafafine o la e uma iinei.” — letting us know that he wasn’t going back to Samoa because his brothers and sisters were all here.

That was Uncle Afa. His home was wherever his family was.

He was a simple man who never needed much to be content. He enjoyed his family, but he was also a true loner in his own special way. He was comfortable being himself, living quietly and simply. Yet whenever family needed him, he was there.

At nearly every family fa’alavelave, you could count on seeing Afa. He didn’t need recognition or praise. He simply showed up, rolled up his sleeves, and helped. Whether it was cooking, doing fe’au, preparing things behind the scenes, or lending his hands wherever they were needed, he served his family willingly. Helping wasn’t something he talked about—it was simply part of who he was.

And then there was his laugh.

You could say almost anything to Uncle Afa—even something that might have offended someone else—and somehow, he would just laugh. That smile and laughter are among the things we will remember most about him. Even during difficult and sorrowful times, there was something about Afa that remained gentle. Whenever we saw him, there was almost always a smile on his face.

He carried a quiet kind of love.

Afa may not have had all the riches this world measures in money, possessions, or material things. But anyone who truly knew him knows that he was rich in all the ways that mattered.

His heart was rich with love.

His life was rich with family.

His hands were rich with service.

And the memories he leaves behind have made all of us richer for having known and loved him.

Sometimes the people who live the simplest lives leave behind the deepest lessons. Uncle Afa showed us that a meaningful life does not require much. Sometimes it is simply showing up. Helping when help is needed. Laughing instead of becoming angry. Smiling even when life is difficult. Loving your family without needing anything in return.

There will be an emptiness at our family gatherings where we once saw him working, cooking, helping, laughing, or simply being Afa. We will miss his presence. We will miss his smile. We will miss his laugh. And we will miss knowing that somewhere nearby was a man who could always be counted on to lend his hands to his family.

Uncle Afa, you may have lived a simple life, but you left behind a powerful legacy of love, humility, service, and family.

You gave what you had—your time, your hands, your laughter, and your heart.

And for that, we will forever be grateful.

Rest peacefully, Uncle Afa.

Your work here is finished.

Your hands may now rest.

Your laughter will remain in our memories.

And your love will continue to live through the family you so faithfully showed up for.

We love you, and we will carry you in our hearts always.

Manuia lau malaga, Uncle Afa.

Until we meet again.