- Country of Origin: Hawaii, USA
- Trigger Warning: Cancer
It all started in October 2022. Our peaceful lives were disrupted by a devastating diagnosis, like a riptide at the beach.
My sister-in-law took Alberto, my father-in-law, to a cardiologist. Multiple tests revealed that he suffered from heart problems, and they recommended open heart surgery as soon as possible.
Scary for Dad, and for all of us too.
More tests brought more bad news: aggressive stage 3 lung cancer.
From that day onward, everything changed; not just for him, but for all of us. And so began all the countless appointments with countless doctors. There were so many of them that my partner and his sister rearranged their lives to ensure he made them all. They used lunch breaks or left work early.
Heart surgery, a stent and a port, chemotherapy, radiation treatments. Physical, mental. He went through it, we went through it.
Seven months to the all-clear. He still had to see a doctor every three months, but everyone was so relieved to hear the good news.
Dad, our salt of the earth icon
Alberto Dela Cruz Jr. was a humble, loving, and hardworking man.
He would wear aloha shirts no matter the weather, loved sweatpants because he always complained of being cold, and wore Crocs because he said they were comfy to just slip on. Though he had turned 75 just before his diagnosis, he looked younger because he always colored his hair brown whenever gray hairs started to show.
Alberto raised five of his children by himself after losing his wife to cancer when she was just 43.
He missed her every day.
He brought three of his kids to Hawaii, including my other half, for a better life. His two eldest stayed in the Philippines. They were already married and too old to petition to come to America.
An agriculturalist back in the Philippines, he put his head down in Hawaii and labored as a security guard to provide for his grown kids back home, and those that he brought over to his adopted homeland.
With Dad, everything was better
Two things I loved doing with Dad were traveling with him and cooking up family barbecues.
He adored heading back to the Philippines to visit family. Going with him was the best. We stayed for three weeks the first time I went there with him. The experience was ten times better because we were with family and, in particular, Dad. We laughed together, told stories, and ate rich and mouthwatering food.
Dad sure did love singing karaoke both there and in Las Vegas. His favorite song was Sinatra’s My Way. Every lyric of that song matched him so perfectly. He owned it. Whenever I hear that song, I think of him.
Keeping close through the wipeout
Sadly, Dad’s health crises were not behind us.
My partner got a call from his aunty saying that Dad felt like he couldn’t breathe. In the hospital, they couldn’t keep his oxygen levels up, and they admitted him. It wasn’t cancer, but Alberto would never return home.
I actually worked at the hospital he was staying in, so I visited him daily before work, on my lunch break, and after work. I made sure to make the most out of every day because I knew that it wasn’t looking good.
He would always greet me with, “Hello, Shannel! Oh, you work today? Thanks for coming to see me.” We would trade stories, and he would always tell me about his day, and how he struggled with his treatments.
He even shared that he knew he was not going to make it. He urged me to tell my partner and his siblings to forgive each other and be there for each other when he no longer could be. I tried to stay strong and hold back my tears in front of him. I prayed day and night that he would recover to see my daughter grow.
He would always hold my hand so tight, and introduce me to the medics caring for him: “This is my daughter-in-law. She works here. I really appreciate her coming to see me all the time,” he would tell them with a big smile on his face.
Towards the end, a diagnosis of fibrosis, when the lungs cannot produce enough oxygen on their own, saw doctors summon the family to break the news to us together. Dad had two choices. One was to have a tube inserted into his throat to boost his oxygen levels, but which would likely prove fatal due to his underlying health conditions. The other option was comfort care, delivering morphine via IV, that would allow him to pass away comfortably.
Dad chose comfort care, so he could end his life peacefully with our crew by his side. We all surrounded him in his final hours and held his hand until the end. It hurt even though, or maybe because, he had the chance to say goodbye before he took his last breath on May 12, 2023, when he left us.
We couldn’t believe he was gone. And so we cried, and cried, and cried…
I vividly remember my other half yelling and trying to wake his dad up.
I have never experienced a death that hurt so much. The fear in Dad’s eyes made me so sad. They were the eyes of a man who didn’t want to go yet; who wanted to fight to live and to be here for his grandchildren. It was heartbreaking. At least we know that he is no longer suffering, and feel that he is now in a better place, watching over us all.
We’re mourning, but buoyed by his strength
I will forever hold onto the memory of his strength. He was steadfast in everything he endured, from losing his wife and having to take care of his five kids by himself, to losing his son to suicide and having to bury him. Then, after all that, facing his serious health problems, he was still a fighter, and he never ever gave up.
Seeing my other half grieve also pains me. He talks about his father and reminds me how long it’s been since he left us. He still can’t believe that he’s gone, and he wishes he could see him or hear his voice again. I remind both of us that it’s okay to mourn Alberto.
Now, when we miss him, we clean his grave and bring him beautiful flowers, but it will never be the same. When a person passes, it is their spirit that you will forever be longing for. I can no longer hear his voice, his laughter, or see his smile.
We will always miss Dad. All the memories we shared with him will live on through pictures, the retelling of stories, and the little things in life that remind us of our departed hero.
Thank you to Emily Delnick, Eric Mabry and Julianna Wages for their inspired edits on this piece.
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Shannel Ikeda
Shannel Ikeda is a mother, friend, fiancé, medical assistant, and a student from Oahu, Hawaii. She is a full-time Medical Assistant at Hawaii Pacific Health. She enjoys family time, music, traveling, and trying new things and foods wherever she goes.
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