Shell’s Perspective

My husband and the father to our child was an amazing man and we were extremely fortunate to have him in our life. When people die, the best thing we can do as the living is keep their memory alive. It is not always easy because most people prefer to NOT talk about the dead. But Jay and I talk about Art all the time and we wish more people talked about him as well. He was a great man and it’s important to us and I am sure it was important to him to keep his memory alive. He lives on through us! It is when we forget the dead and stop talking about them that they actually die. Allow me share who Art was and what he means to us.

Art was a fighter. He was courageous and my hero. He was loving, kind, sarcastic as hell and yet romantic all wrapped up in one. His laugh was contagious, his smile was warm and he had the most beautiful eyes with the most amazing eye lashes I have ever seen. He always joked with me that he wore his glasses to keep the women away! I am so happy that Jay got his beautiful eyes and eyelashes! There is no denying it, she looks like her father and it makes my heart so happy.

Art loved playing practical jokes and he always saw the good in any circumstance. Art survived twenty- one rounds of chemotherapy, six weeks of radiation with a chemo pill, and three surgeries during his cancer journey. Through it all he fought every step of the way to stay alive. He survived fifteen months with stage four pancreatic cancer, which is mostly unheard of. He worked full time during his treatment because he loved working. But the cancer journey was only a little portion of him, he was so much more than the cancer journey.

He was the best husband I could have ever asked for. He was not perfect, but he was perfect for me. He was so romantic and I miss that every single day. One time I was reading a book and I told him a story about an elder couple who would hide a heart around the house and on it read, “SHMILY”. He just nodded and I figured he wasn’t really listening to the story I was sharing. But two weeks later, inside my gym bag I found a crystal heart that was engraved with “SHMILY”. Which stands for, See How Much I Love You. He was listening! For the rest of our marriage, nineteen years to be exact, we hid that heart everywhere. Plus, sometimes if I were at the gym, getting my hair done or getting my nails done, when I would come out Art would be standing by my car holding flowers. It always made me so happy to see him and I always felt so safe and loved by him. He also left notes around the house, in my car and in my gym bag. The very last one he left me I still have in my wallet now so I can see it every time I use my wallet. I also have one in my school backpack so he is always with me in some way.

He always said our wedding day was his happy day, but I have to say the happiest I ever saw him was the day that Jay was born. He was the proudest new daddy I ever seen. He was there for everything from the very first doctor appt when we were pregnant all the way to the delivery room. He didn’t miss a thing! He was so excited to become a dad and the day she was born he gleamed with pure joy, love and excitement. She was the apple of his eye and the entire world to him! He always said, “baby makes three” and called her baby love. He was the best dad ever and even though their time was cut short I am so grateful he is her father forever! He was so proud of her and he was so excited at anything she did. He never missed a game, recital, performance, school event or church event; he was at everything. He even coached her sporting events. I am so sad he will miss so much of her life, but I have to believe that even though we can’t see him he is here by her side every step of the way. The love that he carried for his daughter never leaves, not even in death.

Other things to learn about Art besides him being a great father and husband, he loved the mountains. He wanted to live in the mountains one day. We always joked that we would by a cabin in the mountains and a condo at the beach and he would come visit me at the beach on the weekends. I hated the mountains and he hated the beach and it always made us chuckle.

Art saw everything black or white; there was a never a middle with him. You were either in his life or out. If there was a disagreement he usually walked away and never wanted to argue with anyone. He was very cut and dry and never looked back. Believe me, our marriage had to learn how to compromise quickly because he was the youngest of seven and I was only child. We were both used to getting our own way.

Art LOVED his football. He loved soccer too and played soccer in high school, but football was a huge part of his life. Football became a huge part of marriage. On Saturdays we would clean house, do the yard work, run errands and finish the laundry. Saturday nights we would blow up a mattress and make a bed in the living room right in front of the TV. Why? Because we would wake up Sunday morning in front of the TV for the pregame shows of football. We would watch football ALL day on Sundays from pregame shows all the way to nightly recap with Chris Berman, “he would go all the way!” Football fans know what I am talking about! Art was a HUGE Philadelphia Eagle fan and I was a fan of the Miami Dolphins (NO not because of Dan Marino! It was because of Don Shula and his 1972 undefeated season). Art’s favorite all time player was Randall Cunningham. He would talk nonstop about Randall Cunningham and he loved that he was from Santa Barbara. Art didn’t talk much but if you wanted him to talk a lot just mention Randall Cunningham.

Art also loved his Mexican food and his favorite restaurant, besides the hole in the walls on Mount Vernon Street, was a place called Taco Joes. They knew him by name there. He could phone in orders and he would just say, “My usual please” and they would have it ready in fifteen minutes. We went on several dates to Taco Joes in our lifetime together. Boy did he love showing off our daughter there. He was so connected to the Taco Joes family that we even received Christmas cards from them.

Another fun fact about Art, he loved cold weather and always wore shorts, t-shirts and flip flops 365 days a year. Even in the middle of winter, he didn’t care, he loved the cold weather and hated to wear long pants. He worked for the school district and they made him wear painter pants and that was the only thing he complained about, the pants. On his side job for his own little painting business, AM Painting, he wore painter shorts. Yep, they exist and you better believe my Art found them and bought 20 of them.

After our daughter was born, I joined a running club to lose the extra baby weight. Art was so supportive but always said, “that’s fine my love I support you, but I don’t run. Just know this!” The running club was a great outlet for me and I enjoyed making new friends and doing something healthy. Art was involved and he would help at water stations and drive around to make sure runners were okay or ask if they needed anything.  We made some real amazing friends during this time in our marriage. The running community is such a great group of people; they are motivating, and the determination was admirable. The stories you would hear and see are ones you never forget.  Two years in, after everyone kept asking Art when was he going to join and run with us, he caved in and joined. But you have to understand the club I belong to was a club called Team in Training and we would raise money for the leukemia and lymphoma society. Art always thought it was cool to meet people on the team who survived cancer and were running marathons. At the beginning of the season there would always be new people joining, so at the first meeting the coach would have everyone in a circle and say their names and why they joined the team. Mind you a lot of them were there because they were survivors, or they would be running in honor of someone they loved. Or in memory of someone they loved that died from leukemia and lymphoma. So, the first day there was always tears and compassion. But not Art, he had to find a way to make everyone laugh. What did he do? Only what Art could do: be a silly dork. When the time came for Art to speak this is exactly what he said! “Hi, I am Art, and I am Shell’s husband. I am here because my wife thinks runners are sexy and I consider this fore play”. YES, that is what my husband said! I turned beat red and wanted to crawl into a hole and die! I was so embarrassed. Of course, the somber sensitive moment of deep feelings ended and everyone died laughing. That was my husband in a nutshell, sarcastic and comical all wrapped up in one. Needless to say, from that moment on the team loved him and he was kind of popular. Art completed the Nashville Tennessee half marathon, San Diego relay, PF Changs half marathon in Arizona and Disneyland half marathons. He also did three of the Roc Race obstacle courses, two of them with cancer. He ran like he drove, slow.  He always said, “Why rush? They opened up the roads for me to take in the scenery and I have never been here before, so I am going to enjoy it”. That was Art.

Another Art thing, he loved to embarrass people. I hated it especially when he did it to me. Sometimes we would have a disagreement and one time we had one on the way to the grocery store. When we got to the store, I told him that we need to go in and get what we needed and we could continue our conversation after we shop. He kept saying, “my love, are you mad at me?” I kept looking at him shaking my head and asking him to please stop. No sooner are we in the store at the produce section that for some reason was crowded with people. I am getting bananas and I turn around and there is my husband on one knee with his arms reached out towards me saying really loud, “please my love don’t be mad at me, I love you so much, please my love”. I thought I was going to die of embarrassment. Inside I was so mad at him for doing this and outside I had to make him stop because well, it was embarrassing! Now I think of this story and I laugh. But that was Art; he always did things like this and you never knew what he was going to do next. I have to admit what I do miss is when we went grocery shopping, he could be four or five aisles over and I would suddenly hear, “WIFE WHERE ARE YOU?”. Yes, embarrassing but hilarious too. He did it so much I just expected it every time we went grocery shopping together.  

Art hated yard work but didn’t mind cleaning toilets and he loved to cook. He would make a delicious chicken mole! His favorite food was macaroni and cheese, I still laugh at this. All the Mexican food that he loved so much but he would never turn down a plate of macaroni and cheese. Art loved food! Art also loved naps. He would say the greatest days always involved naps. He loved the air conditioning on hot days and taking a nice long nap. He called it, “the necessary siesta”. He would come home from work when Jay was little and ask, “did she have a nap because if not I would love to handle that part for you”. Next thing I knew my two loves were passed out on the couch. He always looked so happy and peaceful holding his baby girl in his arms taking a nice long siesta in the air conditioned home.

Another fun fact about Art, he HATED to drive. Boy did he hate driving. We always joked with him that if he was going to drive more than 30 minutes he needed to pull off the highway at fifteen minutes to rest. He felt rest stops should be located every 20 miles, no joke. He loathed driving! One time we took a road trip to New Mexico to visit my friend from high school for the holidays. After I drove eleven hours, Art woke up and said he was ready to drive. We only had 30 minutes left to drive! At the time I was so annoyed with him. Afterwards we always laughed about it. I always drove places in our marriage that were farther than 20 minutes. I never met someone who hated to drive so much. He said everyone was always in a hurry and he hated the fast pace of the freeways. When I talk with Art’s life-long friend, we laugh to this day about Arts driving. Not only did he hate driving, he NEVER drove over 55 MPH. No joke! If you have ever driven on the California freeways, you will know that 55MPH will get you honked at, flipped off and tailgated. Art didn’t care; he just casually drove 55 MPH like there was no care in the world with the windows down and his music playing like a little old man cruising down the highway. He was so funny and yet so annoying to many on the highways.

In Arts last years of his life here on earth he became a Christian. It was a turning point in his life and he became evangelist in most ways. He loved his faith and his God. He would talk to strangers all the time about their relationship with Christ. I didn’t mind so much except for times when we would be in the ghetto getting gas with our daughter in the car. Someone would come up to him and ask him for money and he would say, “where are you at with Christ?” That was his go-to line. Next thing I knew, he would be carrying  on a conversation at the back of our car with some stranger. Sometimes I would get nervous and I would ask Art to take us home and then he could come back and save whoever he wants, but in the meantime, we have a child to protect. He would chuckle and then tell the person, “sorry bro I have to take the family home and I will come back and we can pray”. Sometimes he would go back and other times I would ask him to please stay home. As safe as he felt, the world actually is not as safe as he thought it is and we needed him to not get murdered. I remember I would always worry about his safety at work and how he would randomly talk to strangers (people who looked sketchy) and how he’d always get people to pray with him to save their souls. Plus he worked in some very scary neighborhoods; yet, now I know that is not what I needed to fear — cancer was.

Art loved life and he was extremely optimistic about everything. Sure, he worried sometimes, but he always saw the bright side in things. He would always say to me, “don’t worry my love everything is going to be okay”. Even on his death bed he said those words almost every day.  He never worried about tomorrow and never made big plans for the future because he was always in the moment of today. I miss his sunshine personality, his silly laugh, his warm smile and seriously sometimes I miss him blowing his nose. Yes, it sounds silly but I have never heard anyone blow his nose as loud as he did. My dad always said, “is he is calling the geese home”. Lol. I would give anything for one more goose call, a warm smile, contagious laughter and his warm safe hugs.

Every day for fifteen months of his illness he would hold my face and say, “my love have I told you how deeply in love I am with you today?” He was the one dying and yet he never made it about himself. He always made sure to say every single day before cancer and during cancer just how much he loved Jay and me. Everyday!

Art didn’t want a funeral. In fact, when we first married, we did our living trust and will and he put in there, no funeral of any kind. He didn’t want people seeing him sick or dying and he surely didn’t want people gathering together and crying over him. I always told him, “you realize funerals are for the living”. He always said, “exactly! The living. They need to go live and not focus on the dead”. Sadly, people disrespected his wishes and to this day it makes me sad. If Art could have had it his way, he wanted me to leave him at a hospice hospital to die and never go back. In fact, I am sure if going to the woods to die like they did in the old days was still a thing, he would of done that. I had to beg him to allow us to bring him home to die. He didn’t want people to see him die and he didn’t enjoy people around when he was ill. He hated all the attention and everyone at our home against our wishes. He was ready to die and felt obligated to hang on as people kept disrespecting our wishes and showing up. There were only two people besides us whose presence Art actually appreciated, his life-long friend Mr. Smith (that’s what Art always called him) and his other friend Tim. His painting friends from work also did a cool thing for him one day and painted the exterior of our house, and Art was fine with that. Other than these friends, it was outrageous how many people in our home against Art’s wishes. They didn’t want to see him when he was fine, but now that he was dying there were all these people in our house. Art finally let go when I kicked everyone else out. Trust me, that wasn’t an easy task. People were so selfish and rude during his last days here. Honestly, it still angers me how selfish people were. Funny how none of those people besides Tim, Mr. Smith, and one of Art’s work buddies who always texts Jay on her birthday are around for Jay and me today. It makes you think and question their true motives because they weren’t here for Art. Art felt overwhelmed and frustrated throughout the final days and he deserved better.

Art was a great guy and so much fun to be around. We were together for twenty-seven years and sure sometimes we drove each other nuts. But we were deeply in love and we were each other’s soul mates.  We would always talk about retirement and someday grandchildren. He was excited to watch Jay grow up and someday walk her down the aisle. He had planned to be at everything and every event of her life. He was so happy and very content with his life. He was the best husband I could ever dream of having. He was the best daddy to our baby girl. I miss him so much. We grew up together and we were supposed to grow old together. I feel lost without him. I feel lonely without him.

Art has taught Jay and I how to stand up and fight for what we believe in. He taught us how to be courageous and strong. He taught us that no matter what life throws at you, keep moving forward fighting with everything you have. He taught us, “don’t worry everything will be okay!” He taught us what true love really means. He fought like hell to be here because he loved his girls with all his heart. Although his body is gone, he lives on through us.

April 26^th, 2020 would have been his 52^nd birthday. Another fact you need to know about Art; he hated his birthday. He didn’t like the fuss or the attention. In fact, every year he asked if we could close the drapes, order pizza and watch the football draft. He was a quiet and simple man. A man full of life and love but content with living life moment by moment. Art was the definition of “mellow”.  So, in honor of his birthday this year, for a man you just learned about, if you have a moment grab a drink and raise a toast to a man who left this earth before his time was up. By the way, his favorite beer beverage was Tecate beer in an ice cold mug with salt on the rim and a lime! If you have one, raise a toast to Art. A great man who is deeply missed, very much loved by his girls and will never be forgotten as long as Jay and I are alive.

To Art!!!!

Jay’s Perspective:

I love my dad, and April 26, 2020 would have been his fifty-second birthday. It’s only natural we celebrate him and tell you all a little bit about him now. He was the most level-headed person I knew. I’ve only seen him get mad twice in my life, and I don’t even fully remember one of those times. He was always calm, cool, and collected; even when we bickered sometimes. If you were talking with him about an issue, you could always expect reassurances that everything would work out and some wise cracks. Even though he was a very calm person, he was also sarcastic beyond belief.

I didn’t always understand his sarcasm, and we’d bicker about some things because of it. Even when we were arguing about something, he managed to keep a level head. He was the kind of person who would start laughing at the other person in the middle of an argument because they started to be more concerned with being right than actually debating the topic. This gave him an upper hand sometimes because he be would calmly presenting his logic while the other person starting acting crazy in defense-mode. Other times my dad would just listen and agree instead of debating; he knew how to pick his battles. I guess my dad taught me the power of a level head and carefully placed sarcastic remark when used correctly.

He was also a good dad because of the embarrassing things he did for me. He would play ridiculous games like princess tea party with me when I was little. He would wear the crowns and boa scarves I would give him, and one time I even got him to wear a bright pink wig. I remember one time when he got up to take one of our dogs potty in the front yard, and he forgot that he was wearing a tiara. He came inside, took off the crown, and said our neighbor just complimented his “new look”. I thought my dad going outside in the tiara was the most hilarious thing I’d ever seen, and despite his embarrassment, my dad still continued to play princess tea party with me. After that day, he did always double check to make sure he took all his accessories off though. Another time he let me paint his nails pink. Then he went to work the next day with pink nails, and he earned the nickname “princess”.

As I grew older, he still did crazy things with me. One time my mom left for the weekend to go run a half marathon with her friends, and it was going to be just me and dad at home. I decided I wanted to do a spa weekend with facials for some reason. I made this horrible DIY facial mix with peanut butter, egg whites and ketchup of all things, and I asked my dad to cut a cucumber for our eyes. My dad cut the cucumbers, and he dutifully put the horrid condiment mixture on his face and cucumbers over his eyes. We sat there with our faces marinating in peanut butter and talked. To this day I think of this memory and laugh. It would have been so easy for him to just tell me no and put movies on or something instead, but he let an eleven year-old convince him to put peanut butter on his face because it made me happy.

When I think of all the embarrassing things he did for me, I feel bad. At the same time, I can’t help but laugh at the absurdity. He must have been the most patient father in the world. He didn’t need to get his nails painted pink or smother my facial mix on his face, but he did it all to make me smile. It probably helps that he was already a ridiculous man before I came along. My mom told me stories of how they would go places like San Diego or Solvang, and my dad would photobomb a bunch of tourists’ photos like he was Benedict Cumberbatch at an awards ceremony. The tourists would start laughing, my dad would laugh, and my mom would laugh. He knew how to brighten a mood and make everyone start giggling like school children. He never really grew up; he was more like a mischievous minded child in a man’s body. My mom must have thought the same way too because she would stop my dad and I from bickering by scolding both of us, “Children!”.

He managed to keep his child-like playfulness while still being mature enough to learn life lessons, which is something I strive to do. This same calm and mischievous man was also the most supportive dad in the universe. I tried just about every sport under the sun before I was ten years old, and my dad was involved in all of it. He was the coach for my youth basketball team and my soccer coach; one year in soccer my mom was even the assistant coach. He always showed up to every practice and game for all of my many sports, and even dance. When I decided I didn’t like sports and wanted to be a singer, he was so supportive of me. Other than my mom, he was by biggest cheerleader. My mom is not a “stage mom” as they are called, but my dad was a “stage dad” if that’s a thing. When he was on hospice, I found out that all of his work friends have seen multiple videos of me singing. My dad would even stop people be barely knew just to show them a video of me singing and talk about how proud he was.

He was always so involved in everything I did, it was weird and surreal the first time he had to miss one of my performances. He had just gotten chemotherapy and was too sick to see one of my performances in Shrek the Musical, but he still managed to come to the rest of the shows. He even made a point to come to one of my demos while he had cancer. It was my second year at a really great acting school called South Coast Repertory, and at the end of the ten-week class period we put on demonstrations (demos) to show our families what we have learned. I specifically remember that my dad was so sick we had to pull over halfway to the theater so he could throw up and take medicine, but he refused to go home. He was determined to come see my acting demonstration because he was my dad, and being a father meant to him that he would be there to support me.

He was also incredibly kind. One of my favorite memories of him is when we went to the grocery store to pick something up, and as we left there was a man outside begging for money. My dad looked at him and decided to help. He approached the man and told him that he wouldn’t give him money, but he would go inside and buy the man some soup. Next thing I knew my dad and I were walking back inside to buy the man a can of soup.

We gave the man the soup and because my dad was religious, we prayed with the man as well. I vividly remember watching the man run off into the night with his dinner as my dad and I walked back to the car. I must have been nine years old or maybe younger, and my most pressing concern after the encounter was how the man was going to open the can without a can opener. My dad smiled and assured me, “he’ll find a way”.

I could share so much more about my dad. I have a million more embarrassing stories about him, I could talk about what a prankster he was or how he taught me how to sneak Halloween candy without getting caught, but I’ve already shared the fundamentals of who he is. He was calm but sarcastic, kind but mischievous, childlike but wise, and mostly he loved me and my mom more than anything else.

He called us “his girls”; my mom was “my love” and I was his “baby-love”. He did a thing where he would say “baby-baby-baby-baby-baaaaaaaaby!” really fast and low, and I’d try to reciprocate it with “daddy-daddy-daddy-daddy-daaaaaaady”. He had a way of saying “strawberry” in a really low, gravely voice that would make me giggle, and his slight Spanish accent made him say the name of our friend’s dog “Pippy” differently. He taught me the proper pronunciation for “Quinceanera” and was probably the only person in the world with an avocado allergy.

The most important thing about him though is that he was willing to do anything for me and my mom because he loved us so much. He did crazy things to make us laugh, and he fought an exhausting battle against cancer for fifteen months for a chance at staying here with us. His love for us motivated him to be a courageous warrior fighting like heck to stay on this earth. Even now that he’s gone, his love for us and our love for him remains. It’s his love for us and our love for him that is motivating us to tell his story and try to do it justice. 

Aloha and gratitude,

Jay and Shell