Jose De Los Reyes's Funeral Fund

Rest in Peace, Jose "Pepe" Bonifacio De Los Reyes
         December 23rd, 1957-August 1st, 2016
Beloved Husband, Father, Grandfather, Brother, Uncle and Friend.
He is survived by his wife, Lani, Children: Dillon, Lannel, Bethany and Moe, Jannel, and Grandchildren: Besmah and Azizah


It's hard, you know. When people ask, how I'm doing, how my siblings are, how our mother is doing. It's hard. "Stay strong," you hear it many times, but it's easier said than done.

The days get longer, you're unaware of what time it is, if you've eaten, conversations are reread, memories are reenacted anywhere you go, you go through pictures and last words, you definitely have gone over the "whatifs", "shouldofs" and "ifs," simultaneously you're trying to function while fighting back tears and continuously feel the weight of the world on your shoulders.

My voice shakes, my head hurts, there's a never-ending feeling of tiredness. Numbness courses through your body and a series of restless sleepless nights await.

It's strange and foreign.



For the passed three days, I've said, "my dad passed," "my dad died," "my dad's gone," Or I'd contemplate and struggle with an idea and instantly say, "oh, maybe I'll call dad and get his input," then the reality would hit me like a freight train. I'm still waiting for the call saying, "JUST KIDDING!" but that call never comes and "My dad passed away" sinks in.

For the last three days, I felt like my willpower, faith and strength were all being tested.

How much could an individual handle without breaking down?

My dad died.
My mom's on the other side of the globe.
I've heard my mother cry.
I've heard each one of my siblings cry.
We drank in dad's memory.
None of the children are with our mom.
I didn't get to see him.
I wasn't with him when he died.
We weren't with him when he died.
The shock spread like wildfire and the mass amount of calls, textes, and emails, each one accounting for a different memory of our dad.



Two years ago, my mother endured an acute stroke. We were admitted to Mark Twain Hospital in San Andreas for initial tests, then transferred to Lodi Memorial Hospital in Lodi, CA, for physical therapy and speech development.

My mother suffered paralysis on her left side, speech, motor and cognitive loss.
For about a month, we stayed at Lodi Memorial working with our mom until she was finally discharged to come home and do out-patient physical therapy.

My dad was with her every step of the way. Sleeping on the uncomfortable hospital sofas, refusing to leave my mom's side. As a family, we did physical therapy together, it was hard on my dad due to his gout and prolonged severe rhemothoid arthritis.
He never once complained and continued to support my mom physically, emotionally and spiritually.


Combined, my parents attitudes were admired. They were set on the idea of getting my mother back to health and regaining the functions she had lost. With physical therapy not turning out like we had hoped, my family decided that it was in the best interest for both parents to return to their native homeland for physical therapy. We believed that being in the Philippines was better for both parents' well being and the overdue return back to the homeland had been extended 30+ years.

On March 12th, 2015, we said goodbye and safe travels to our parents. Shortly after, on August 11th, 2015, my parents returned to the states to attend my college scholarship ceremony.



Everything we hope and prayed for physical therapy was granted and more. Our mother could walk with the assistance of a walker, she didn't need someone to assist her many day to day activities, she was regaining function in her left arm and her spunk was back. My father was beaming, glad to be home, surrounded by family and ecstatic that mom was making a comeback. They stayed home for a short while and decided to return to the Philippines to continue my mother's physical therapy. On October 9th, 2015 they left to the Philippines.

Both parents were great. The healthiest they've both been in a long time, given the circumstances. My mother would continue her physical therapy while my dad would walk his 5 miles each day. They looked good, felt good, and were good.

For as long as I could remember, my dad would always take medicine for his arthritis. A whole cabinet full of multicolored pills to help ease his pain. In the Philippines, he wasn't taking any; It was the happiest and healthiest I've ever seen him.

My parents had duel citizenship for the states and the Philippines. The original plan was half a year in the Philippines and the other half spent at home, stateside.

Eventually, my parents decided on retiring in the Philippines. They were currently staying with my mom's family, my aunt and uncle at Northwestern University in Laoag, Illocos Norte. My father called me one day and expressed he was building a house for my siblings and I to stay at whenever we came to visit.




My dad and I spoke on the phone daily. My current standing with school and updates on the house. He was very excited. Some days he was frustrated with the process and other days he'd call me asking me to go to Lowe's for a specific doorknob to fit my mom's likliness.



He decided to build this house as a gift to our mom, the love of his life, the mother of his children and his partner in this life and the next.

With love and family as foundation, our parents invested their entire life savings into this project.



Everything was great. My mom was happy, my father was in good health, the house was almost completed and they were living the life they both deserved.

On July 4th, 2016, my family and I held a family reunion in Reno, Nevada and we got ahold of my parents. They looked like the sun was radiating from both of them, you could hear the excitement in both of their voices as they told us, they were moving into their new home. We facetime'd with the family and everyone was aware of the good news.



We received word that our parents were battling the flu but both regained their health and would be away from their phone as they would be moving.

My mom asked for kitchen appliances.
My dad constantly asked me when I was coming to visit.

The house was completed. And the next adventure awaited them.



The morning of August 1st, 2016 the world I knew was taken from me. I received an early morning call from my brother, telling me my dad had passed away. I shot up and felt like someone shot adrenaline in me and replied, "OUR dad?" Immediately I called my mom in the Philippines who confirmed and told me how he passed.

My father was not a man who complained, he was a creature of utmost stubbornness who insisted he was always okay or fine. He was tough. Strong. Resilient.

*The details of his death are still unclear*

Two days prior to his death, my father complained of a terrible headache and was coughing up blood. My mother finally convinced him to go to the hospital. My father was brought to the hospital by the Sisters of the Clarisas Capuchinas Monastery as well my aunt and uncle. My father's initial lab work had stated he had higher than normal blood pressure and his vitals were out of range. My aunt and uncle requested my mother come to the hospital. My father was having complications and the doctors called out a code blue, in which they gave him CPR and tried to resuscitate him. My father passed at 10:30pm.


As with most deaths, this one was extremely unexpected. Having poured their life savings into their retirement home, which was completed 3 weeks prior to his death, my parents financial situation was far from prepared for a tragedy such as this.
The average funeral cost here is the United States can go anywhere from $3000-$10,000+.
In our situation my family wants to transport my Father's body from the Philippines, to a plot in San Francisco so he can be laid to rest in the states alongside the rest of his family.

Due to my mother's condition she's having a hard time taking care of all the legal documents to get my Father's body back to the states. Two of my siblings, Dillon and Bethany, are going to the Philippines to take care of it, and to bring our mother back home, since she can't travel by herself. Flying to the Philippines and back is expensive enough as it is. Transporting a body, more so.

We didn't think we would experience our Father's death so soon. Their retirement house was just completed so we expected their lives to finally be stress free, and they could enjoy their retirement in peace. They were healthier than they've been in a long time, given the circumstances, we hoped they would have much more time together.

In short, the reason we are asking for donations is so that we can transfer our Father's body from the Philippines to a plot in San Francisco. These series of unfortunate events leaves us completely unprepared for the financial burden this presents. Every dollar donated helps and is deeply appreciated.

On behalf of the De Los Reyes Family, Thank You so much for the support, love, and donations during this time.
Thank you for aiding us get him home. We hope that his love, laughter and legacy are never forgotten and continues to thrive on.

Mabuhay! Salamat sa iyong suporta!