Hector M. Ramos Obituary

Our father, Hector Manuel Ramos, was a family man.

Family was always his priority. He often quoted one of his favorite movies, The Godfather: "Never go against the family.". Family came first for our dad, and he spent his life proving it.

Dad often told us that he chose to work as a building superintendent because it allowed him to be there for his family. He drove us to school and picked us up almost every day. He showed up for the important moments and the ordinary ones. He was present in our lives and later became an active and loving part of his grandchildren's lives as well.

Dad loved sports and staying active. He played stickball for the Latin Dukes and remained connected to the game long after he stopped playing. Even after his playing days were over, he would still show up to watch his son play.

Handball was another passion. We grew up at Orchard Beach while Dad played handball. Some of our favorite childhood memories are spending summer days there and hanging around the courts on Bailey Avenue in the Bronx waiting for him to finish a game. Later in life, he continued playing at Brighton Beach. He also loved riding his bike and swimming at the YMCA.

One of the greatest gifts our dad gave us was music. He taught us how to dance salsa and introduced us to his extensive vinyl record collection. He loved salsa, doo-wop, and Motown. We can still picture him playing records and translating the Spanish lyrics so we could understand the stories they were telling.

Dad also taught us practical things—how to work on a car, fix things around the house, and figure things out for ourselves. He believed in being capable, resourceful, and independent.

Our father was rough around the edges and entirely unfiltered because, to him, honesty was the only policy. He believed that if you couldn't handle the truth, you couldn't handle anything. He demanded respect and gave it only to those who earned it. He was deeply proud of his roots as a Borinqueño and proud of the Ramos name. He wouldn't hesitate to pull your collar if you pronounced it wrong.

His stare could scare the devil, and his hands were heavy as hell.

His tough love always came with exclamation points.

He taught us to put family first. He taught us to lead and not follow. He taught us to stand on our own two feet and do what needed to be done, whether it was easy or not.

Dad did what needed to be done to make sure his family had everything we needed, and he never apologized for any of it.

He was a mentor to many, a benefactor when someone needed help getting back on their feet, and a fierce advocate for the people he cared about.

He wasn't perfect—in fact, he was far from it—but he was ours.

Most of us are where we are today because of who he was.

For those who knew Dad, he had a saying for everything.

Some were pieces of advice. Some were jokes. Some made absolutely no sense. Most weren't original, but after hearing them for decades, they became his. We came to call them "Hectorisms."There was: "Can't bullshit a bullshitter.""If you're in a hurry, wake up early.""You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.""Only two guarantees in life: death and taxes.""Don't put off until tomorrow what you can do today."Jokingly: "First they frame me, then they hang me."And he embraced being bald, often saying: "God made only so many good-looking men. The rest he gave hair to."Or: "It's not a bald spot. It's a solar panel for a sex machine."And perhaps the Hectorism that summed him up best was the nickname he gave himself: "WHATHEHEC."Dad could make us laugh, embarrass us, frustrate us, and teach us lessons—sometimes all in the same conversation.

Our dad was one of our biggest supporters and loudest cheerleaders. He never hesitated to tell us he loved us or that he was proud of us. One of the things we will always remember is how often he told us he loved us "more than sin.". It was funny, imperfect, and uniquely him.

Nothing prepares you for the loss of a parent, especially when the journey is slow and prolonged.

It is humbling to watch your hero age so quickly. It reminds you that there comes a point when it becomes your turn to take care of them. Parents don't come with instructions.

By the grace of God, it was truly a blessing to spend these last years, days, and minutes of Dad's life by his side.

One of the hardest moments of our lives was hearing the doctors tell us that Dad would not make it through the night and that all they could do was keep him comfortable. We sat there for hours watching our father, simultaneously praying for a miracle and for a quick and peaceful release from his suffering.

In those final hours, a lifetime of memories came flooding back—Orchard Beach, handball courts, salsa records spinning in the living room, rides to school, family gatherings, stories, jokes, and all the ways Dad showed up for us throughout our lives.

Like all families, ours wasn't perfect. Neither was Dad. But he loved deeply, lived honestly, gave generously, and always put his family first.

To the world, he was Hector Ramos.

To his friends, he may have been WHATHEHEC.

To us, he was Dad.

And to at least one of us, he was Daddikins.

We are who we are today because of everything he taught us—both intentionally and unintentionally. His lessons were not always gentle, but they were lasting.

We will miss his voice, his stories, his stubbornness, his humor, and the unconditional love he gave so freely.

Dad, thank you for always being there. Thank you for believing in us. Thank you for teaching us, supporting us, and loving us "more than sin."Rest in Paradise, Dad. We love you.

Every story helps keep a part of him alive and reminds us of the many lives he touched along the way.