Hector L Huerta

Hector was born on October 19, 1950, in a small village outside of Rosario, Sinaloa, Mexico, the eldest of seven children. His mother María married George Brosz, who brought Hector and his siblings to the United States in 1961, carrying dreams of opportunity and a promise of a bright future. From his earliest years, Hector’s spirit was alive with laughter, mischief and music - which would later become hallmarks of his life. In those years he taught himself to play the piano and guitar and fell in love with music; from The Beatles to Mexican Trio music, he appreciated it all.

After graduating from Mar Vista high school in 1969, Hector moved to Brooklyn, New York to pursue religious studies. There, in the hustle & bustle of city life, he met Evelyn Jordan, the woman who would be his lifelong partner. They married in 1975, and a year later, moved to Chula Vista, California, where they built a life rooted in love, family and service. Together they raised three daughters: Elizabeth (Lizz), Deanna, and Christina—each daughter carrying his sense of humor, love of connecting with others and commitment to family.

In 1980, Hector founded H&M Wrought Iron, a business that became a testament to his love of hard work, craftsmanship and spirit. From gates to railings seen across San Diego, his ironwork is visible in both public and private spaces—each piece a mark of his joy for sharing beauty that lasts. His love and commitment to his work, his business, clients and employees was only more evident as he insisted on being as active in the day to day operations despite his physical limitations towards the end of his life. He loved driving around town to meet his clients, visit with vendors & oversee his crew. Prior to his illness he had a reputation to show up to almost any event with his guitar in hand, ready to serenade an unexpecting audience.

Though he would have loved to work eight days a week if possible, Sundays were built around tending to his garden while listening to music, before eventually napping in a hammock beneath the jacaranda tree he loved so much. Sundays were also about time with his family, which was only more evident when he was promoted to the role of grandpa, or Tata, as his grandbabies grew to call him.

Tata adored his grandchildren—Lucia, Amaya, Elijah, and Manny—and once they arrived, they became the greatest source of joy of his life. He chased them, played with them, laughed with them, and reveled in their presence, rolling on the ground with them and singing silly songs. Becoming a grandfather was his ultimate accomplishment, as anyone who spoke to him for longer than 30 seconds would understand. Being their Tata was the best part of his life.

Hector was a man of humor—quick, spontaneous and often inappropriate; he loved to make us laugh at every opportunity. He had a way of finding joy and mischief in every moment, turning ordinary events into core memories for those of us lucky enough to spend time with him. His love language was hard work and generosity. He cherished his fishing trips, from Alaska to Baja California, returning with coolers full of fish and hilarious stories to share.

Having never met a stranger, people were always quick to confide in him, drawn by his warmth and genuine interest in their stories. Friends described him as loyal, funny, charismatic, and generous. While Hector grew away from organized religion later in life, his faith was deep, rooted in the Golden Rule and in service. He believed in an afterlife and said that he wanted to be remembered in jokes, stories, songs, and hard work—a belief he lived every day.

In 2021, Hector was diagnosed with ALS, a disease that challenged his body but never dampened his spirit. Even as he lost physical abilities, he lived with intention—continuing to come into the office until a month before his passing. He continued to never miss an opportunity to enjoy a meal, listen to good music and drink good tequila or scotch. He lived fully to the end, reminding us that joy is a choice. He never stopped saying he loved his life, even as ALS made his world smaller.

Hector is survived by his loving wife of fifty years, Evelyn; his daughters Elizabeth, Deanna (Matthew) Blankenbiller, Christina (Alfredo) Gerena; his mother María; and his siblings Silvia, Rey, Lili, Lydia, and Eva, who were central to his life. His large, extended family will mourn him forever. He is preceded in death by his brother José and his stepfather George Brosz. He is also survived by his business and his garden, both a living legacy of love and

care.

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