Eric Jackson, the Latino/LGBT editor of New York City Voices, moved to Puerto Rico in the summer, fulfilling a long-held dream to return to the country of his roots-and his loving, extended family.

On Sunday, August 13, 2006, one of his best friends, Rachel, and I held a farewell party for him in my 3rd floor walkup in Brooklyn. Friends who sent him off included Dina, Melanie, Carlos, Teena, Danny, Edwin, Digna, Carl, Susan, Marvin, Angela, Marilyn, Karen and Meera.

It is with bittersweet sadness that Eric is not here any more. We all made plans to visit him on the playa, and he says that if I get married, I should go to PR for my honeymoon!

He will be staying with his mother and grandmother until he finds a place of his own. With reference letters in hand, he is set to look for a peer advocate job there. Unlike in the U.S., consumer-oriented mental health services in Puerto Rico are not as well established. As a courageous champion of people with disabilities, I'm sure Eric will work to change that.

In his 12 years in New York City, his activism was legendary. Here, I'll give you a summary of his accomplishments:

This is just a brief glimpse; I'm sure he'll add to this newsworthy list in the coming years. In his time in the U.S., however, Eric's most treasured achievement was finding his partner, Glen, and deciding to spend the rest of his life with him. This summer they celebrated 12 years as a couple.

As Voices' indefatigable editor, he interviewed New York City Councilwoman Margarita Lopez, at that time the Chair of the Mental Health, Mental Retardation, Alcoholism, Drug Abuse and Disabilities Services Committee.

The paper's LGBT and Latino special editions, featuring consumers and providers from these communities, were two of our most well received, thanks to Eric's insightful reporting and knowledge of his constituents. In everything he did for our journal, he worked tirelessly and was dedicated to its mission of empowerment and recovery for people living with mental illness.

"He serves as a great role model because he had been through hell and pulled out of it," Rachel said. "He got his life together given the circumstances that he had."

At the farewell party, the food was plentiful, and home-cooked with love. We gobbled up Digna's pastelillos de carne y queso, and Angela's asparagus fritters. Carlos brought Spanish yellow rice with red beans, and sweet plantains. Danny's barbecued chicken was mouth-watering. Everyone returned for seconds on Teena's brownies.

We coasted on a sunny mood, recounting stories and memories of happy times with Eric. Though the party got started at two in the afternoon, the last guests didn't leave until ten o'clock at night.

I walked Eric to Samia's so he could get a car back to his apartment. When the cab pulled up, he hugged me and I kissed him, saying, "I love you." He was my close friend in the neighborhood. I'll miss calling up after work on a Friday night to ask if he wanted to go to dinner. I'll remember fondly our conversations at the booth in the Bridgeview Diner, sharing good times and listening to music on the mini jukebox.

One of his favorite singers is Luis Fonsi, and he loves Celine Dion, too. At the party, we listened to Amor 93, the Spanish pop music station. He wore an orange tee shirt with a "coqui"-the lilting native tree frog-silk-screened on the front, and the words "Puerto Rico: La Isla del Encanto" declaring his home the Island of Enchantment. Bermuda shorts and sandals completed his easy outfit.

That is Eric: truly down-to-earth, warm and gregarious.

He is more than a friend. He's a person I trust for good advice, and a dose of mood-boosting cheer. Eric is one of the most good-natured, open-minded people I know. We can all learn a thing or two from him about compassion and empathy. He always has kind words for you.

He will be missed, but not forgotten. He will be remembered, and in our hearts forever. For, this is not goodbye but good luck.

Hasta luego, Eric!