Hi family and friends. With a heavy heart, we are fundraising for my dad‘s funeral, burial, and medical expenses. Derrick Hill Sr. passed in Hawthorne at home on September 28, 2023 at 3:40am holding the hands of his wife of 33 years. His dying wish was to be buried nearby his mother and brother in Rose Hills. Due to complications from his biopsy and the aggressiveness of his tumor, it became such short notice for us as a family to make his wish come true. After giving his family such a beautiful life, we only hope to grant him his last wish.

He was the epitome of an amazing dad, supportive husband, protective brother, devoted grandfather, an uplifting friend, an unrelenting fighter… there aren’t enough words to describe the will, strength and determination he had to live for his family. From a young age up until his last breath, he fought the odds stacked up against him all due to his admirable faith in God. He will now join his grandmother Mere, mother Valencia, brother Daamu and all of his other loved ones in heaven.

(Derrick’s backstory)

When Derrick was a little boy, he was diagnosed with Medulloblastoma. Doctors told his mom that he would not make it to his teenage years and that even if he did, he would not live a “normal” life nor would he be able to have kids. His mom being the prayer warrior that she is, put all her faith into God and her son and prayed against everything the doctors said. He then went on to marry the love of his life and had 3 kids. Then in 2011, at 47 years old, a new tumor appeared. This time it was Meningioma. 80% of it was removed but it came back in 2017. This time, a new surgeon was able to remove all of his tumor. In 2022, doctors saw a small new tumor growing and decided that radiation was the best way to treat it. But the radiation caused too much swelling in his brain to see if it was successful. He then had to undergo Avastin which drastically affected his immune system as well as his day to day life. He became weak with very poor balance and parts of his body started to swell. At least now the doctors could see if the radiation was a success. And it wasn’t. The doctors feared that this time, there wasn’t going to be a “cure” or “remedy” or “another five years” for my dad. We were then presented with the option for a biopsy, not without risk of course. The neurosurgeon was 99% sure that it was terminal cancer and that he’d only have 3 months left to live. My dad, being the fighter that he was, said that he was willing to take the risk of the biopsy. Between August 3rd and August 18th (the day of the biopsy), Derrick began to prepare for this surgery… only in a way we never expected. He began to talk about what he wanted for his funeral, what he wanted my mom to do with his belongings, asking my brothers and I what were our plans for the future. He said this time he “felt different.” Finally, the day of the biopsy came and we all headed to UCLA early in the morning. He checked in, prepped for the surgery and said, “I’ll see everyone later.” After about 5 hours, his neurosurgeon called and let us know everything went well and we can go see him. Two by two we went up there and it was almost like nothing had happened, asking for his cup of coffee with his donut. Over the weekend, he was stable and was set to be discharged Sunday, August 20th. But Sunday came and his vitals were high: fever, blood pressure, heart rate. Monday the 21st, we noticed things started to go downhill. He became less aware and less responsive, slow to react. From the 22nd for about three weeks, he would undergo several tests and exams, 2 intubations, 2 induced comas, poked countless times for blood tests. On September 12th, we were told he would be extubated for the final time. As a family we decided to break the news to him that the results of the biopsy came back. He had terminal cancer. Grade 4 Glioblastoma. And as expected, he was devastated. After about 2 hours of bittersweet conversation with him, he let us know he was tired and that he wanted to come home. Being how long and how hard he fought for his family for the past 12 years (really it was 50 years), we let him know that he didn’t have to be strong for us anymore, that we were going to be okay. That same day he came home happy and relieved. Derrick held on and fought for 16 more days until he took his last breath.