Jose M. Cruz

Roberto Luis Stevenson wrote: That man is a success who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who leaves the world better than he found it…who looked for the best in others and gave the best he had. By that account, my dad was a success. I never imagined that Monday I took my dad to the doctor that eight weeks later my life would change forever. I took him to the hospital on October 22. I remember the next night we stayed up all night just talking about everything, listening to music, going over each of the kids lives, talking like we used to. From that point forward, he would be bombarded with one complication after another, but he kept hanging in there defying all odds. Although the doctors told us he wouldn’t get better and that his communication was lost, I knew in my heart he was in there because I could see him in his eyes. He knew everything that was going on and he could understand everything. He got better at times. My dad was like that. He never let anything get him down and if he couldn't do something then he would figure out a way to do it.

I heard people talk about the circle of life, but it wasn’t until now that I have a better understanding of its meaning. When I was little, I called my dad daddy and as I grew older I called him Dad. Somewhere during the time he was in the hospital, I started calling him daddy. But one thing that never changed during that time and always stayed true, he would always call me pumpkin.

God gives me strength, and my dad taught me how to be strong. My dad was an amazing teacher. He taught us about life with his sayings, “there’s no free lunch”, “if you’re going to dance to the music, then you’re going to have to pay the fiddler” and so many more. Everything he did, and everything he said was a teaching moment. He had a way of making everything he said and did a valuable lesson. My dad loved God and I remember he used to come over every day during lunch and read to Jessica out of the bible from the time she was four weeks old. He’d sit there and read a scripture and then explain it to her in a way only she could understand.

When I had each of my kids, as soon as I left the hospital I stayed with my mom and dad. Mom was there to help me during the day, when dad would let her, and she always gave them their first bath. But dad, he was my night time nanny. He would sleep on the rocking chair in the next room and as soon as he heard them, he would come running in to check on them, seeing if they needed their diaper changed or just wanted to be fed. Sometimes they just rolled over in their sleep. He had super sonic ears and the mere passing of gas would send him running. After I nursed them, he would whisk the off into the next room where he would rock them to sleep and then bring them back and lay then gently in their bassinet. I remember sometimes I would stay up just to hear him sing them to sleep or listen to him talk to them about life and what was instore for them. That was the kind of amazing grandpa he was, that was the kind of man he was, that was just how my dad was.

My dad babysat for me on Mondays on his flex day. He started off with Jessica at 3 months old, then 16 months later he was picking up John with her. Whether he was taking them for a ride, taking them to church or going to see the dinosaurs, Mondays were his days and he took them every Monday until they went to preschool. By the time Gabriel and Daniel came, Dad was struck with Guillen Barre and he couldn’t take care of them as much, but he did when he could.

Dad taught me about cars, how to build and read instructions when putting things together, how to ride a bike and all those things dad’s are supposed to teach their kids and more. He taught me how to dance and everytime I hear Sabor a Mi I will always remember our dance. If I could have one more dance.

My dad was always there. And my dad didn’t stop teaching just me. He taught my kids as well - about life, about setting goals and always having a plan and most of all, how to love each other even when they wanted to kill each other. He was the voice of reason, the one everyone listened to, and you never wanted him to give you that look.

Dad was always there for me. We used to go lunch just to catch up, just to check in with each other. Our favorite place to go was Love’s BBQ. My dad was always there when I needed someone to talk to. A lot of time he would just listen to me, and sometimes that’s all I needed, and other times when I didn’t know what to do, he was there to help me find a way. More often than not, just knowing I could turn to my dad made everything better, and I knew I was going to be alright. My dad was more than a dad, he was my best friend, my confidant, the one I turned to when I needed help. He had that same relationship with Jessica, his pumpkin pie, he would have had it with Jac, his little pumpkin slice, and the boys lost their role model, the one who believed in them and pushed them to be their very best.

We were two peas in a pod, both high strung, opinionated, stubborn and always had to be right. We butted heads and we disagreed. But it never got in the way or our relationship. Over the last few years he was different in his thinking, and it was harder for me to really talk to him like I wanted to, and I missed that so much because he was my dad and I could always tell him everything. He was the one I could always turn to, the one who always made things better.

During the last eight weeks, despite all the problems he was having, there were moments where he was my dad again, the one I could talk to, the one who knew what to say, the one who would look at me and tell me everything was going to be alright, and though sometimes he couldn’t say it, just the look in his eyes, or the way he squeezed my hand let me know I was going to be alright. I spent so much time just talking to him and he would listen, and he would call me pumpkin and tell me he loved me and that everything was going to be alright. But one day he told me I had to let him go and that he wanted to go. I remember that day at rehab when I was so excited because he was sitting in a wheelchair for the first time in three weeks and when he turned to me he looked at me with so much sadness and pain and said, “I’m tired. I’m so tired. No more.” and so I said okay and that I would let him go and be strong just like he taught me. That was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, but he wanted to go and he was ready to go...I had to let go. Those last eight weeks we caught up on a lifetime of talking and I understood him and I knew what he wanted to say even though he couldn't by the look in his eyes he was trapped. And yes he would get mad when I got it wrong, and there were times I didn’t understand what he was trying to say, but I knew if I stayed there long enough he would come back to me and it was in those

moments that I knew everything was going to be alright because I had my dad back. I promised him that I would take care of mom and Anthony because he was worried about him not doing it and I promised him I would make sure he did and I kept telling him about how great the kids were doing and what a great job he did in helping make them the kids they are today and if he had to go, he could and everything would be alright. As I try to look past my own heartache, I have to also remember that everyone here heart is broken.

He was my mom’s husband of 59 years, he was my brother’s dad just as he was mine. Our kids lost their grandpa, their papa, their role model and Jac lost her papito. He was a husband, a dad, a friend, compadre, uncle, and Godfather and we all lost someone special and we all are hurting. My dad was my hero but so is my mom because she loved my dad unconditionally, for better for worse for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to death do they part. My mom taught me about commitment and the love she had for him. I remember one day he wanted to see my heart and I couldn’t understand what he meant and he pulled his covers down and hit his chest with his good arm and said you here and as I bent over he pulled me down onto his chest and he wrapped his broken arm over me and hugged me and whispered, “see, your heart”. Those eight weeks will be embedded in my memory for the rest of my life and I will savor those days I had with him. But if I could have just one wish, I wish I could have him back even for just one more day, so I could talk to him one more time, so he could tell me again that everything was going to be alright.

God looked around his garden and he found an empty place. And then he looked down upon the earth, and saw his tired face. He put his arms around him and lifted him to rest. God’s garden must be beautiful, he always takes the best. He knew that he was suffering, he knew he was in pain, he knew that he would never get well if he were to remain. He saw the road was getting rough, and the hills were hard to climb. So, he closed his weary eyelids and whispered, “Peace be thine”. It broke our hearts to lose him, but he didn’t go alone. For part of us went with him, the day God called him home.

Good bye daddy, I love you.