<div><strong>For 93 Years, He Made Room for Everyone</strong>
</div>
<div>In 1964, my grandfather hopped the fence at Candlestick Park.
</div>
<div>I've heard this story my whole life, from my mom, from my aunts, and from Papa himself. My uncle Butchie was 13. He was born with spina bifida and was paralyzed from the waist down, and Papa had taken him to see the Giants. Butchie said he wished he could meet Willie Mays. Papa wasn't a "maybe someday" guy. He hopped the fence, ran across the field with security chasing him, and yelled up, "Willie Mays! My son's up there. He's in a wheelchair, and he wants to meet you!" Willie Mays looked down and said, "Bring him down." Butchie spent the rest of the game sitting right there in the dugout, and the next day their picture was in the paper. Our family still has that clipping.
</div>
<div>That's Papa in one story. His name was Alvin Thomas Pacheco. His friends called him Big Al, and we grandkids called him Papa. I'm Clinton, his grandson, the son of his oldest daughter, Sharon. Papa passed away peacefully at home on October 15, 2026, at 93 years old.
</div>
<div><strong>Born in a Barn, Built on Family</strong>
</div>
<div>Papa was born in a barn in 1933 to immigrant parents, one of six boys (alongside Ernie, Bill, George, Joe, and Tom) and two sisters, Mary Ann and Darlene. As a boy, he slept in a shed on the farm where they raised pigs. Early on, when his mother needed someone to stand up for her, Papa did, and his brothers followed his lead. And he never really stopped doing that, for anybody.
</div>
<div>He met my grandmother, Nancy, in high school. They were born the same year and went to school together through their junior year. At just 17, they got married and built a life together with four children: Butchie, my mom Sharon, my Aunt Julie, and my Aunt Laurie.
</div>
<div><strong>"The Doctors Said Two. Butchie Lived to 29."</strong>
</div>
<div>When Butchie was born, the doctors told my grandparents he wouldn't live past two and advised them to put him in an institution. Papa refused. Working full-time, he still got Butch up every morning and put him to bed every night.
</div>
<div>Papa once told my mom, "I gave my son every opportunity a walking boy would have, and then some." Years later, at his trucking company, F&amp;S, he made Butch his dispatcher. On a family cruise, when there was a beautiful lookout, Papa carried Butch up nearly a hundred flights of stairs so he wouldn't miss the view, and then carried him back down. The doctors said two years. Butchie lived to 29.
</div>
<div>Papa never stopped working hard. After trucking, he bought my grandmother a bakery because she'd always dreamed of having a shop of her own, and he became a baker right alongside her. Later, he joined Costco. Within his first two months, Sue McConnaha, Costco's Vice President of Bakery Operations, saw something in him and promoted him to run the bakeries for all of Northern California. He opened more than 40 bakeries across the region and hired hundreds of people over the years. Whenever someone asked why he hired a particular person, he'd give a big thumbs-up and say, "I just have a good feeling about them."
</div>
<div>Papa gave my mom advice about leadership that she passed straight down to me: When you're in management, every time you walk into a building, you say hello to every single person who works for you, wish them a good day, and remember one special detail about their life, and never forget it. And he didn't save that for work. That's just how he treated people. I still lead that way because of him. Papa worked until he was 83.
</div>
<div><strong>An Open Door &amp; A Chair at the Table</strong>
</div>
<div>More than anything, Papa gave. He always had an extra chair out, and somebody always ended up in it. Every Thanksgiving and Christmas, he brought home anyone who had nowhere else to go, whether it was someone living on the streets or a service member far from home. He once drove to Kmart at midnight just to buy sweatpants and socks for people in need. When my mom got married, he threw her an enormous wedding reception at the UAW Hall in Fremont. He'd give you anything and never ask for a thing back.
</div>
<div>Whenever any of us was chasing a dream or going through hard times, Papa showed up and backed us completely. When I was in high school and figuring out my career path, Papa bought the tickets and came with me, all the way to Boston, so we could visit Johnson &amp; Wales University in Providence, Rhode Island, together. I ended up going there. Whatever any of us was going after, Papa was in.
</div>
<div>When my sister Cory was four months old, she contracted bacterial spinal meningitis and spent two weeks in the ICU. My grandparents were right there beside my mom every single day.
</div>
<div>When my Aunt Julie, who is also my godmother, lost her son Lenny, who was born with brittle bone disease and 27 fractures, Papa was right at her side. Years later, in 1986, when Aunt Julie suffered a brain aneurysm and spent three months in an induced coma, my grandparents lived at that hospital, never leaving, not even for Thanksgiving or Christmas.
</div>
<div>When my Aunt Laurie suffered a stroke years later, Papa was right there again. And when Aunt Julie reached her 29th year of sobriety, Papa looked at her and said, "I'm so proud of you. I love you, darling, and Mom would've been too. I just had a good feeling about this."
</div>
<div>Whenever my mom faced hard times, he took her, my sister, and me in. No questions, no complaining. He also raised my cousin Jessica when she needed it most, and she still says he saved her life.
</div>
<div><strong>The Family He Built</strong>
</div>
<div>Papa and Grandma Nancy were married for 49 incredible years. For their 25th anniversary, the family threw them a surprise party at the neighborhood Irish pub near Grandma's bakery. When Grandma passed at 65, Papa stood by her until the very end, just as he later did for his companion, Loretta.
</div>
<div>Papa's grandkids are me, my sister Cory, and my brothers Greg and Harry; my Aunt Julie's children, Lenny and Jessica; and my Aunt Laurie's children, Joelle, Samantha, Alyssa, Crystal, and Christian (who brought nothing but joy from the start).
</div>
<div>Papa didn't do step-anything or half-anything. If you were family, you were his, period. Then came the great-grandchildren: Joelle's boys, Trey and Nate; my sister Cory's Casey and AJ; Samantha's Nora and Chase; Greg's Colton and Trevor; and Harry's Aiden, Zoe, and Brody. Aiden was born the very same year Grandma passed away, our very first great-grandchild, and he was exactly what we needed that year. Papa lit up every time one of those kids walked in.
</div>
<div>And we can't forget Papa's furry companions: Teddy #1, Teddy #2, Sissy, and Junior. They may not have officially belonged to him, but he loved them like they were his own, and they loved him right back.
</div>
<div>Right up to his final days, he was still Papa. He'd tell every nurse, "Whatever you say, because you're beautiful," and he'd try to slip out the door with his walker the second no one was looking. He always said bowling wasn't about the throw; it was about what you do after: being with people.
</div>
<div>At the end, we were all around his bed, the same way he was always around for us. When Grandma passed, the church was so full people were standing in the aisles. Papa deserves that same full church.
</div>
<div>I always say there's a beginning and an end to everything, but it's the middle we hold onto. Papa's middle was 93 years long, and we were all in it.
</div>
<div><strong>Setting the Table for Big Al</strong>
</div>
<div>Papa will be laid to rest beside Grandma Nancy at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Hayward in a private family service on February 14, 2027. Then, around his birthday in April 2027, we will host the first Tribute to Alvin "Big Al" Pacheco, a day for everyone who loved him to gather, tell stories, and keep his table full. After that, it becomes a yearly tribute to both Papa and Grandma Nancy, so the two of them stay together at the table every year. We'll share the location as soon as details are final.
</div>
<div>For 93 years, Papa set the table for everyone else. This time, we want to set it for him. Your contributions will help cover:
</div>
<ul>
<li>Funeral and burial services, placing him alongside Grandma Nancy at Holy Sepulchre Cemetery in Hayward
</li>
<li>The first tribute celebration in his honor this coming April
</li>
<li>Travel help, so family and loved ones can gather to say goodbye
</li>
</ul>
<div>Remember Candlestick? Papa never said "maybe someday." He just hopped the fence. If you're able to give, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. If you can't, please share this page with anyone whose life was touched by Big Al.
</div>
<div>You will be missed. I guess it's my responsibility now to pick up the check before anyone else does.
</div>
<div><br />
</div>
<div>A note from me: I used AI tools to help restore some of these old family photos, cropping them and bringing back their color so they're easy to see here, and to help me put Papa's story into words. The stories are real, and the memories and the love are all ours. I incorporate AI into my workflow.
</div>

Michael Montgomery

Tom & Renee Pacheco

Lorri Dieffenbach

Edgar Vilkins

Bernadette Speth

Kersten Cheyne

L Gray

Michelle Marchese

Zoe Cavnar-Lewandowski

Anonymous

Help Us Give Alvin "Big Al" Pacheco the Farewell He Deserves

Help Us Give Alvin "Big Al" Pacheco the Farewell He Deserves

Ainda faltam $3,790. Ajude-nos a dar um impulso.