As Chanell Trujillo gripped the edge of her son’s open casket for the last time Monday, her painful moans came from a place deep inside her heart, the sound spilling onto the street outside Holy Ghost Catholic Church.
She wept, staring down at 5-year-old Deion Santistevan, at times adjusting his orange tie and white dress shirt, as family and friends filed past to pay their last respects.
In his coffin, the little boy wore glasses and he was surrounded by plastic toy figurines.
A Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles baseball cap on his head masked the bullet wound.
Deion’s father, Elias Santistevan, 22, shot him, then killed himself last week during a standoff with Denver police.
The troubled man was distraught over his failing marriage to Trujillo, the possibility of going back to prison and the recent suicide of a close friend, relatives said.
Deion’s cousin, Chrissy Gonzales, described the family’s pain during a eulogy.
“When a child loses a parent, they are called an orphan,” she said. “When a husband or wife loses a spouse, they are called a widow or widower. But there is no word for a parent that loses a child. There are no words to describe the pain, grief and agony that they feel for the rest of their lives.”
About 300 mourners filled the Denver church Monday seeking answers to a tragic and early death.
“There is sadness, unending questions and confusion,” the Rev. Thomas Corazon said during the service. “But if he lived a full life, his passing would still be a tear in the fabric. But in God’s hands, even the boundary of death is not the final word.”
In the week since Deion’s death, the family has looked for signs that the boy they affectionately called “Fatboy” and “Booger” is still with them.
Orange was Deion’s favorite color, an unusual choice for an unconventional boy who preferred spending time sitting close with his elders to playing with other children.
The church was filled with mourners wearing his color.
Orange wreaths and flowers surrounded his coffin, and his family pinned orange ribbons close to their hearts.
Thursday night, his aunt, Linda Cordova, said she looked up and saw an orange moon in the sky.
“I knew it was my jito, my Fatboy,” she said. “He was saying to me: ‘I am OK, Nanny. I’m OK.”‘
Staff writer Felisa Cardona can be reached at 303-820-1219 or fcardona@denverpost.com.
