Ray Torres, January 7, 1928 - March 5, 2008

Today is a challenging day…the last of a year of “firsts.” March 5, 2008 my father passed on. Like every day since, I’ll think of him throughout my day. After I post this I’ll drive over to the family house and Mom and I will take care of her errands (she doesn’t drive). And I will sit in Dad’s seat in his Tahoe and smile – knowing he’s smiling about how we’ve managed to keep on keeping on.

Below is an essay that I put up on my MySpace page last year:

I lost my dad last Wednesday night.

While we knew he was weak with congestive heart failure, and we knew that another cardiac event could be his last, we’re all still reeling from the suddenness and finality of his passing.

It could have been worse. He was behind the wheel, my mom in the passenger seat, at a major intersection just blocks from their house. They were stopped (thank God) for a red light. Dad mentioned he felt dizzy and went unconscious. Mom hit the OnStar button for help. About that time a lady came to the passenger side and tapped on the window to get Mom’s attention – turns out she was a nurse. She went to the driver’s side and started CPR on Dad while he was still in the driver’s seat.

We didn’t get her name and we hope she will get in touch with us – her actions, I’m sure, gave us one more day to gather with Dad in the ER. My mom, my sisters and my niece were all with him when he passed the next evening.

Since then, we’ve been doing what needs to be done…moving through the process with memories and tears that are ready to flow at the mention of a time or place. I do my best to find the bright spots but there’s a panicked voice (my own) that keeps breaking through:

What are we gonna do without Dad???

He was the rock. He was the mechanic. He was the constant.

He worked tirelessly – first in the automotive business and then for 44 years in Real Estate – to provide the essentials (and more) for my mom, sisters and me. I’ve never had to go to jail, but Dad “bailed me out” so many times. And for the big decisions in life I could always go to him for good, sound, practical advice.

He was a motorhead. A real So Cal hot rod pioneer. His love of motorsports took him to El Mirage Dry Lake, Bonneville Salt Flats and all of the historic drag strips in the south part of the state. We have boxes and boxes of trophies from his wins at SCSA speed trials. He and his pals (including Dan Gurney, who would become a motorsports legend) ruled the roads in the collection of small towns that would eventually be known as the “Inland Empire.” His ability to fine tune an engine for performance carried over into speedboats and motorcycles.

And while Dad gave me every opportunity to do all of these things, he was no less supportive when his son found a different “obsession” – music – and he made sure I had every opportunity to immerse myself in pursuit of my dreams. He did the same thing for my little sister and her quest to be an aviator.

Dad had his first heart attack (and five way bypass) in the early ’90s. Through the years he had more episodes that slowed him down, little by little. However, no matter how much we all admonished him to “take it slow” and delegate the physical stuff to others he worked it HIS WAY until the end.

He never had to give up driving. He didn’t have to linger, in a diminished capacity, in an assisted care facility. He enjoyed (much to Mom and Little Sister’s chagrin) the foods he loved – in moderation, of course. ;-)

Most of all, he lived and loved and made sure we were all taken care of.

And this makes me hear that voice again:

What are we gonna do without Dad?

Well, we’re going to do what we have to do. We’re going to make sure Mom has all the help she needs. We’re going to make sure we move forward in the way Dad would want us to. And, most importanty, we’re going to carry him with us in our hearts until we’re done here and move on to whatever it is that waits beyond this life.

We’re going to bury Dad Thursday, March 13 at 11:15 AM at the Riverside National Cemetary. Services will be graveside with his good friend Jim Mills officiating. Somehow, I’m going to talk about a lot of the stuff I’ve written here.

After the service we’re going to have a big celebration of his life at the March Air Reserve Base Officer’s Club. I’m going to sneak in a cooler of Miller High Life quart bottles – because Dad would prefer that over spending good money on an overpriced bar drink.

“If you learn how to do it yourself you won’t have to pay someone else to do it,” he would advise me. (I’m still learning.)

It’s going to be a tough road doing without Dad. But I can feel him with me right now telling me that I’m going to do just fine.

Thanks, Dad.

Ray Torres' 80th Birthday Party Invitation

Today is my father’s birthday. He would have been 81.

This is the front of the invitation I put together for his 80th. We had a huge surprise party and barbecue for him at the State Citrus Park here in Riverside. It was really a big day for him with friends and best wishes arriving from all over the country.

Mom wanted to do something special for him – she knew how weak he had become and, I think, had a strong intuition that he wasn’t going to hang in there much longer. Dad had never had a big party for his birthday and wouldn’t have been happy about the cost of such a bash so the only way for us to do it was to keep it mum.

He was indeed surprised. And it was pure joy to see him that afternoon as the center of attention among lifelong friends and family. I put together a program of his favorite music – four CDs of songs we shared together.

Two short months after his party he was gone. We are so thankful we got to do it for him.

I’m going to go up to his gravesite at Riverside National later today to sit and remember. I was such a lucky kid to have him for a father.

Happy 81st, Pops. Love you and miss you.

- Ralph