Some people leave a mark on everything they touch. My uncle Roy was one of them.

Roy Eden passed away on March 13, 2026 at 90 years old.

His full name was Victoriano Eden, but most knew him as Roy. And if you knew him, you may have known about Roy's Boutique, probably even bought some shoes or household items from there as well.
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He was born in Cuba in 1935, raised in a large family with deep roots, and spent his life moving between islands and oceans until he built something lasting on Cayman soil. He worked on ships. He opened a restaurant in Cuba. He moved to Miami and came back. He built Roy's Boutique.

He married twice, raised children and stepchildren as his own, became a grandfather and great-grandfather, and until the very end was the kind of presence people leaned into.

What It Looks Like to Honor Someone With What You Have

When someone you love dies, there is this window of time where everything is raw, the family is trying to hold it together, but there are so many things to coordinate. Flowers and programs and logistics and grief, all at the same time. Yes an encouraging word is helpful, but most times, what's most helpful is offering to cook, to clean, to organize something the family can't get to.

Something I’ve learned over time: don’t say to someone who’s grieving, “Let me know if you need anything.” They do need something. Offer something you KNOW you can commit to. They can accept or decline. Make that step easier. They can’t think of an extra thing they need, much less reach out and find the words. Offer something.

What I had to offer was my creativity. My cousins graciously accepted my offer.

The first thing I did was pray. Before I touched a single photo or opened any editing program, I asked the Holy Spirit to guide me to make something that would actually feel like Roy to the people who loved him most.

And I believe He answered. Because what came together didn't come from my taste. It came from paying attention to what they shared with me and spending late nights at the studio to go over what they had. My cousin Merary took her time, even while dealing with so much pain, to share her thoughts and make changes that felt just right. I am forever in awe of her strength during this process. To know how much she loved her father, and yet having to put on that hat of coordinating so many things is not easy at all. To all of the family, I feel them deeply. They all worked tirelessly to honour him well.

I cried many times while creating because I could see his love in the photos they shared with me. I was able to understand the nuance of such an interesting character. Like he hardly smiled, yet his heart was so full of love. A cheeky, clever guy lol. He gave to so many people, in his own way. So I cried every day leading up to the funeral because I felt their void. Every piece we ended up creating translated into something clean and warm, with a kind of quiet dignity that fit him well.

Some of the photos they found of him were damaged. Old prints, faded or torn, carrying decades of history. One of my favorite parts of this entire creative process was recovering them digitally. Bringing back what the years had worn away, without altering his likeness at all. See an example below

The memorial slideshow video also came together through prayer, the Holy Spirit guiding what to include, what photos to linger on, what to let breathe. I took that seriously.

And then there were the tributes. My heart broke as I heard them speak of their memories and share their love for their father.

I received a couple of phone voice recordings. With the right tools, I was able to clean them up, removing any background noise of cars passing, etc.. turning them into studio-quality recordings. What was left was their voices, clear and full, saying exactly what their hearts were able to convey at that moment. What a gift to help prepare these special moments for presentation.

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‍[Thumbnails below as reference only]

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The Creative Process Is Not What People Think It Is

People often tell me they're not creative. I understand why, but it's far from the truth. If God created us in his image, we all have some form of creativity in the ways we work or even think. From the outside, creative work looks polished and effortless and certain. It doesn't look like what it actually is.

It's actually really messy. It's slow. It requires trusting that it will eventually resolve. Most people abandon the process right before it turns.

Working on something this significant, under this kind of pressure and love, clarified something for me: creativity at its best is not self-expression. It's service. It's listening carefully to who someone is and translating that into something others can hold.

Roy lived widely, loved deeply, worked hard, and built things that lasted. To translate that into a programme design, a slideshow video, visual tributes, a set of restored photographs was about paying attention and asking the right questions.

That is what the Holy Spirit makes possible when you invite Him in.

"Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord."— Colossians 3:23

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A Legend

I remember running around the shop with Merary and playing hide and seek. He allowed us to be kids, even whilst running such an established business. There's a whole generation of Caymanians who grew up walking through those doors. Who knew Roy's face, Roy's voice.

He leaves behind his wife Helen, six children, thirteen grandchildren, four great-grandchildren, siblings, and a wide circle of people whose lives are better because he was in them.

He was a son of Cuba. A pillar of Cayman. A businessman, a father, a grandfather, a mentor.

He was Roy Eden.

And I am deeply honored to have known him. God bless his soul, and his beautiful family.