On August 1st 2025, our world shattered for a second time. My dad, Isaac — though most knew him as Mike, Mikey, Big Pun, the Road Runner — left us suddenly when his heart gave out. Just one day before the 8th anniversary of my mom’s passing, he went to join her. It’s almost like they couldn’t be apart, and now my sister and I (19 & 24) are here facing life without either of our parents — something we never imagined we’d have to do this young.

My dad was the cool guy. The one with the quick wit, the goofy laugh, and a heart big enough to hold his whole family. He was a big teddy bear wrapped in logic and principle, but when it came to his daughters, his nieces, nephews, and his family, it was always personal. He had a way of making everyone feel accepted, heard, and cared for. He loved sports, especially his fantasy football, blowing shit up on the Fourth of July (safely, well… mostly), sci-fi, history, and any excuse to gather people together over good food from his grill, laughter, and music blasting!

He was the perfect mix of steady and silly — always ready to hype us up, crack a joke, or offer quiet encouragement when we needed it most. If you were close to him, he knew how to love you in your language — whether that meant showing up for you, feeding you, making you laugh, or sitting with you in your worst moments.

What made him special wasn’t just what he loved — it was how he loved. My dad didn’t just claim people as family — he chose them. And from that moment on, never allowed you to feel like anything less than his own. That choice defined who he was: loyal, intentional, and devoted to the people he loved.

My dad taught me so much — about what a man really is, about holding your head high, about choosing family not just by blood but by love and loyalty. He taught me that life is beautifully unfair, but you still get to decide how to live it.

Right now, my sister and I are trying to give him the send-off he deserves — bringing him home to the east coast, laying him to rest, covering funeral expenses, and keeping a roof over our heads during this time. We’re asking for help because as much as it hurts to say, we can’t do this alone.

If you knew my dad, you know he was unforgettable. He wouldn’t want us to sit in the dark remembering his struggles. He’d want us to remember him happy — at the grill cooking for his family, with fireworks in the sky, laughing loud, and making everyone around him feel loved.

If you can give, please know you’re helping us honor a man who gave everything he had to his family. And if you can’t donate, please share this so his memory — and his love — reaches as far as it can.

We love you forever, papi.

Mikey. Big Pun. The Road Runner.

Our dad. Mi padre.