Raymond Hunce

This is not a traditionally written obituary. It is a son remembering his father...

My father, Raymond Hunce, was born on May 22nd, 1958, in Mount Vernon Hospital in New York. He was born into a full family consisting of his mother, Marie Donna Marcantonio Hunce, his father, Joseph Hunce, his older brother, Peter Hunce, and his oldest brother, Joseph Hunce. The entire family was a close part of each other's lives from beginning to end, through thick and thin, the good and the bad. We've all heard all kinds of funny and crazy stories of my father's and his brothers' earlier days. I recall with great joy hearing about them over holiday family meals at my grandmother's house, between all kinds of other "lively" discussion, always entertaining. I'm sure many of our other family members and friends have their own stories and memories of him from these earlier days as well. These stories have always been told with happy reminiscence.

Later on in life, he met my mother, Diana Ramos, and I was born in 1985, their only child. As far back as I can remember, my father always showed me great love, from the beginning to the end. He used to love the weekends I would stay with him and my grandmother, and around my video game playing he would take me out to play basketball, play catch, pitch the baseball to me for batting practice, take me to Turtle Cove in Pelham Bay for mini golf and the batting cages, take me to Nathan's off Central Ave when they used to have the big arcade, and more. He was also the head coach for my Little League Baseball team at the Mosholu Montefiore Community Center in the Bronx.

As the years passed, he was my #1 fan in whatever I was doing. The Army, the running, the boxing, higher level education...he was always super interested, supportive, and proud of anything I did. And though I've never wanted or asked for anything, he always wanted to give. He was often burdened with the feeling he had little to give me, no matter how many times I told him I don't need or want anything. Him always having been present and loving me was all I needed, and he provided that in full.

His last couple years, throughout which his remaining immediate family passed, were spent at Sutton Park Center for Nursing & Rehabilitation in New Rochelle. After some initial adjusting, he grew to get really comfortable and like it there. He was able to come and go as he wished - giving him full freedom - he had the 24/7 care he needed, and he had endless entertainment once he got a computer in his hands and started playing tons of video games, watching countless hours of YouTube, virtually traveling the old neighborhood and the world via Google Maps, and looking up old friends. And best of all, he became good friends with all the staff and fellow patients on his floor and throughout the facility. Whenever I would call he was often joking with staff in the background. And when I would visit and we'd leave for an hour or so, he and the fellow patients would talk like everyday friends. It was nice to see and hear.

My father died on the evening of Saturday, January 3rd, 2026. I last saw him on Christmas Day, December 25th, 2025. He told me not to visit, to which I gave him my default "okay" with no intention of actually not going, and when I showed up he said he knew I would. It was a normal visit like any other. Him talking a lot while sitting on the bed. Me not talking much at all sitting on the chair. Going for a short walk to the corner store so he could get his large coffee. The usual. Doesn't sound like much but we both deeply cherished such visits. I spoke with him a few times between Christmas and January 3rd, just letting him know what I was up to since I was off for the holidays and doing various things around NYC...museums, a New Year's Day "Super Hike" led by the NYC Parks Department which he enjoyed reading up on and asking me about afterwards, etc... They were all good, happy talks.

On Saturday, January 3rd, 2026, I was told my father was his normal, cheerful self. He was out earlier in the day as usual, and talking and joking with staff and fellow patients when he was back in later that day. At around 7:30pm he spoke with one of the staff ladies outside his room and all was good and normal. At around 7:45pm she went in his room and saw him slumped over and unresponsive, but with a pulse. She started CPR and after EMTs arrived and took over for some time, he was eventually pronounced dead at around 8pm. I got the call at 8:06pm. The cause of death was determined to be Cardiopulmonary Arrest. It's one of the very sudden, quick, and virtually if not completely painless ways to go. In short, he spent his last days comfortably, happy, surrounded by an immediate community that he got along great with, in almost daily or semi-daily contact with me via phone and periodic visits, and then painlessly and dreadlessly went to sleep one last time.

He passed knowing his son loved him very much. That meant the world to him. And that means the world to me.

- His Loving Son