I was fortunate at the age of 29 to have three sets of parents: my parents, my husband’s mom and stepdad, and his dad and stepmom. While coordinating and managing holidays and special events was sometimes complicated, it was still a blessing. For my kids, having 6 grandparents was absolutely awesome; never a shortage of someone doting on them and telling them how perfect they were (so essentially, they are liars that we don’t hold accountable because someone has to spoil my kids since I won’t). After 17 years, I am sadly now down to 5 parents. On August 7, 2024, we lost our Bill.
Bill was Jamie’s stepfather. He came into the picture when Jamie was 8 or 9 years old, just a little younger than my son today. Though initially giving Bill the cold shoulder, as he was probably not ready to let a new man into their home, Jamie eventually let his guard down and let Bill in. Soon he and Bill grew a very deep bond, and he became one of Jamie’s strongest role models in his young life and even into adulthood.
When Jamie and I first started dating, I believe I won Bill over when he heard that I valued things like maxing out my 401K and having a solid health insurance plan. Then he learned that I have a strong love for bacon, and he called me a keeper. I first met him on Thanksgiving of 2006, the year Jamie and I had a contest to see who would gain the most weight after celebrating with 3 different families in the same day…not to brag, but I won. Our first stop was to Mom and Bill’s home, and they were nothing short of warm and welcoming. I was so taken aback because they literally welcomed me with open arms, as in these strangers willingly hugged me, whereas I think my parents welcomed Jamie with a couple of raised eyebrows, a head nod, and pointed to the food with their lips and told him to eat (that is equivalent to a Filipino hug, I suppose). Bill was so attentive, already knew what kind of wine I liked (the alcoholic kind, I’m not picky), and he seemed to have studied different aspects of my life so that he could have an engaging conversation with me. I felt like he really and truly had a genuine interest in getting to know me. He seemed so thrilled to see Jamie happy with me, like he could burst at any point that day. And he laughed at all my jokes (I kept them clean the first few years), and everyone likes a good audience. At one point, I noticed he held Jamie’s mom’s hand in the middle of the meal and just stared at her so lovingly. I was very confused. It only lasted a few seconds, but I felt like he was saying so much to her in his intense stare, like, “Sweetie, we did it. We lived to see the day Jamie found his person.” And then I thought, “Ah, so this is where Jamie gets his googley-eyed staring habit, from Bill.” I kept thinking, man, white people really are so different. I have only seen my parents hold hands a few times, and it’s mostly in church when we pray the Our Father. Bill was one of a kind that day, and really, all days. He became family in my eyes on day one, and I think that feeling was mutual.
Everyday after that, Bill received me with the same enthusiasm as day one, with so much joy and love, excited to hear how I’ve been and my latest experiences. I kept expecting it to slowly deflate as he got used to me, but it never did. He was such a role model in that way, to present yourself to someone you care about with an obvious and deliberate intention to make you feel loved. I regret that I took it for granted.
Two years into my relationship with Jamie, we got married. So many memories of that day flood my brain, one being of Bill absolutely weeping in the church with pride and joy that his boy picked the most amazing partner in the entire world (I may have embellished the description of myself a bit). The photographer captured a picture of him wiping away his tears and perhaps in prayer, either asking God to bless our marriage, or to save his son’s soul (both can be true at the same time). The videographer caught Bill and Mom dancing at the reception, with Bill having the time of his life, twirling Mom around and just being in the moment. That day was one of the happiest I’ve ever seen him, with tears of joy, boisterous laughter, smiles from ear to ear, and sharing the day with the people he loved the most. The day would not have been the same without him.
Bill was a loving husband, father, brother, uncle, Papa and friend. He was generous, kind, and thoughtful, and wanted nothing more than for his family to be happy and safe. He showed his love in many different ways, like visiting our homes every few months to check the batteries of our smoke and carbon dioxide alarms, or gifting us bottles of wine or unique rosaries, or making us personalized labels to put on every item we owned, or placing water alarms in the basement in case we had a leak. He was so proud of his grandkids, saved every picture of them and went to all the grandparent days at school. He would come to their games and make a note in his phone of every kid’s name and number and study the note, so that by the next game he could cheer for each kid by name. He had the patience to try to teach me how to golf, and also had the wisdom to know that I was a lost cause. He had a knack for grilling his famous pork tenderloin, and used no less than 3 timers at once to ensure perfect cooking times so that our meals were restaurant quality. He knew everyone’s favorite drink and had it at the ready. He was there for others, big ways and small, to show them he loved them in his Bill way.
We were in Florida when we got the call that Bill was going downhill. My sister-in-law flew home to be with Mom, while the rest of us drove home as quickly as we could. When we got home early that morning, the vibe in the house was so bizarre, so quiet and chilling. I went upstairs to find broken glass all over the bathroom floor. Our shower door must have randomly cracked and shattered to bits while we were away. As I was cleaning up the glass, I felt so sad, like this was symbolic of our family unit breaking and forever changing as we were preparing to say our goodbyes to Bill. I hated picking up the pieces of glass, I didn’t want to do it, but I did it anyway. I remember feeling very angry, even though it was just a shower door. But now that I think about that moment a year later, I see I was grieving, I was angry about losing Bill and that cleaning up the pieces was an inevitable must-do in order to move on, even if I didn’t want to.
We lost Bill so quickly, too fast to comprehend all that was happening, but perhaps the swiftness was merciful in a way that maybe we’re not all that equipped to readily understand. The day was so vivid for me, with all of us there by his side to say our goodbyes. I watched Jamie like a hawk, making sure he was okay, ready to catch him. He was understandably distraught, wanting so badly to be strong for his mom and sister, but falling apart on the inside, feeling beyond exhausted and a bit lost. There are no words you can possibly say to someone losing a parent right in that moment, so I just held him. Then I watched over my babies, made sure they were processing things in whatever way their little brains allowed them. And when I didn’t know what else to do, I took the Filipino route: I prayed and made sure everyone was eating.
As attentive as Bill was towards others, he himself did not like attention, and did not want a large wake or funeral, as he did not think people would even attend. But we filled the church he was so devoted to with family and friends. His favorite priest gave a thoughtful homily filled with personal stories of Bill. The choir sang songs that will always remind me of him. Family members did readings and the grandkids said petitions. Megan and Jamie ended the ceremony with heart-felt eulogies that spoke of the great man that shaped them into the adults they are today. We gathered afterwards as a family at his favorite restaurant and toasted to one amazing man. He deserved attention. He deserved a celebration.
Jamie and I went with some friends to a concert a few days after Bill passed away. Given the timing of it all, we felt kind of guilty going, but we had these tickets a year in advance. We saw Smashing Pumpkins and Green Day at Wrigley Field. Bill, being a big Cubs fan, was shining down on us that day. When the Smashing Pumpkins came out, Jamie was as happy as a kid on Christmas morning. I think he even shed a tear or two, as he had been waiting to see this band since he was in high school. Funny back story about that…so Jamie wanted to see the Smashing Pumpkins perform in the city when he was in high school. Bill and Mom said absolutely not, no high school kid is going to the city with no adults on a school night. Jamie sulked and pouted, and would not talk to them for weeks. Bill and Mom felt so bad about it, they ended up buying him 2 tickets to the Mariah Carey concert. Yep, not a typo, I said Mariah Carey. They thought Mariah Carey was a pretty even trade off for missing Smashing Pumpkins. So not only did Jamie have to go to see Mariah Carey in the burbs, but he had to bring a friend. So he and his buddy enjoyed the “Vision of Love” tour, but probably acted like they didn’t, being two high school dudes at a Mariah Carey concert. Now fast-forward to nearly 30 years later, he finally got to rock out to one of his favorite bands, and as I watched Jamie with tears in his eyes, I pointed to the sky and said, “Bill, he finally got to see his Smashing Pumpkins in concert! You did it!” Later on that night when Green Day came out, the lead singer said something about remembering the people we have lost, and Jamie grabbed my hand so tightly, like he was asking me to help him keep it together. Bill was smiling down on his “Bud” for sure that night.
As the year went on, we returned to our daily grind, because what choice do we have but to move onward. There have been many little “Billisms” popping up randomly. I remember going to Costco one day and watching this older couple go through the aisles. It seemed like they were preparing for some kind of family gathering, and the older woman remembered to get a certain type of chips the kids liked. The older man said, “Oh, Grandma’s so good!” That was something Bill would always say to Mom. A few months later, our sump pump failed during a rain storm and we were about to get a shit ton of water. One of the water alarms that Bill insisted on us installing started to screech, and Jamie was able to keep the water from causing a disaster in the basement. He sat in that basement and cried, knowing that Bill saved the day again, even from Heaven.
Certain things still feel strange, even after a year has gone by. Holidays feel a bit empty. Jamie was especially tearful on Thanksgiving, as he and Bill love this holiday the most. On the kids’ birthdays, it was weird not to get Bill’s request to have a copy of their birthday dance video. I cried a bit when Reese had her confirmation and graduation, as I know his Reesey Girl was the apple of his eye. How he would have loved to see her in her 8th grade dress looking all grown up, telling Jamie that he’s in big trouble with all the boys that will chase her. How delighted he would be to watch Evan’s talent show dance, see Conner hit a home run over the fence, or watch Cooper play Gorilla Tag. And what we would give to be able to see the pride in Bill’s eyes just one more time.
I know it is still hard for the kids. Evan cried a lot initially, wrote about him in religious education assignments, and even now talks about how a very specific song makes him sad every time he hears it because it was playing on the radio when we left the hospital the day he died. Reese has remained rather stoic in her grief, though I know she was feeling a lot of emotions on the inside, based on the super sad slow jams she was listening to in the shower. She went shopping one day with her friends and came home with cross necklace that she bought because it reminded her of Papa. Jamie takes it one day at a time, sometimes telling stories about him with a smile, and sometime quietly thinking of him. And when he is missing Bill, I know. I have mostly been focused on making sure my Newton loons stay afloat during this difficult time, that they express their emotions, and know they can talk about Bill and feel angry, sad, lonely, or happy, and it’s all okay. But sometimes I also have my own feelings of guilt, how I wish I could have done something to help him. Whenever I have a patient that reminds me of Bill, I give them extra special attention, hoping that maybe I could help this one in a way I couldn’t for Bill. And then I give their wives a super long hug because I know they need it. And then I get a call from HR (just kidding, just need to lighten this up because it’s getting pretty sad).
I don’t understand death, other than its inevitability. It took away Bill and so many other loved ones, but leaves behind memories, life lessons, wisdom, and “Billisms” that remind us that he is still with us. We will always love and remember you, Bill! We will forever max out our 401K just for you. I will end this with the lyrics of the song that Reese played on repeat when we lost Bill…better get your tissues now…
Too Young to Be Old (by Jax)
I can’t believe you let me get married
When you made me pinky swear
That you were my true love, the one who braids my hair
You moved me into an apartment
You assembled all my chairs
But dinner’s not the same when you’re not there
The hardest part of growing up
Is watching time take everyone you love
But I won’t let it, no, I won’t accept it
You’re too young to be old, you’re too fast to be slow
You’re too wise to be confused, and I can’t do this on my own
Your lungs are strong, your mind is sharp
Daddy, please don’t break my heart
And stay, don’t go
You’re too young, far too young to be old
Now you go to bed early
And your hair is mostly grey
I let you tell the same story that you told me yesterday
You walked me down the aisle
Then you gave me away
Maybe I’m in denial but I’m so afraid
The hardest part of growing up
Is watching time take everyone you love
But I won’t let it, no, I won’t accept it
You’re too young to be old, you’re too fast to be slow
You’re too wise to be confused, I can’t do this on my own
Your lungs are strong, your mind is sharp
Daddy, please don’t break my heart
And stay, don’t go
You’re too young, far too young to be
How could you let me get married?
I thought we pinky swore
You’ll always be my first love
You’re too young to be old, you’re too fast to be slow
You’re too wise to be confused, and I can’t do this on my own
Your lungs are strong, your mind is sharp
I’m not ready for this part
Stay, don’t go
You’re too young, far too young to be old
The Mundame 