My name is Bill Hernandez. This past Wednesday, my 72 year old father, Robert Scutillo, past away at Broward General Medical Center in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. He was ill for quite some time and , I am actually relieved to say that, he passed away very peacefully. I was by his side and held his hand as he passed, I said a prayer asking God to accept him into His Kingdom, gave him kisses and hugs, and spent two hours with him in the ICU room after he passed. I spent that time talking with him and thanking him for his love and for all of the things he taught me in this life. I thanked him for the street-smarts he gave to me that will help me along in my future life. My father was from Brooklyn, N.Y. and, before the nurses put his body in the bag, I placed my N.Y. Yankee's cap with him so that I could leave a part of me with him so that he will not be alone in the morgue.
I have been a caregiver for my dad for 11 years. In that time, I was with him twenty-four hours a day, seven-days a week, all by myself. I gave him his bath, fed him, gave him his insulin and medications, took him to his Doctor's appointments and, whenever he was in the hospital, I stayed with him the ENTIRE time he was there. Even there, I still gave him his bath, etc. because he was comfortable with me doing those things. I am also more gentle than most of the nurses. When they gave him his bath, it was actually painful because they were very rough. During these times, I became an Entertainment Writer. I have always love to write. I began to review concerts that I would attend and sent my reviews to everyone I could. After a long time, a local monthly news paper began to feature my articles, and then a website joined in. After two years of writing concert previews and reviews, I thought to do interviews with some of the artists that I have been covering. The first interview I did was with Christopher Cross. It was amazing to sit in a room with a music artist, who's music you admire and are a fan of, and have their complete attention and answer any question that you might ask. I then started to receive free concert tickets from the artists management, publicist, venue. I was able to take my dad to see his favorite performers and meet them backstage. He was always so star-struck and it was awesome to see him so happy, even when he was not feeling well. The shows took his mind off of his illness for just a couple of hours and made him feel great!
With type of work, I was able to stay home and give him the care that he needed. At this point, it is at the end of the month and I will no longer have the security of receiving my dads checks next month. I am not concerned with how I will pay my rent, electricity, car insurance, etc., because I am very driven and determined to do what I need to do to survive. I need to get a job so that I can pay my bills and take care of my two Pomeranian's that my dad so loved. Before I can even have a level head to do that, I need to put my father to rest. It weighs very heavily on my soul that my father, who did what many people would not do for their own flesh and blood, did for me (I will explain in my next paragraph). It is my very first priority that I have my father cremated. I would love to have him buried with his mother and father in the cemetery in West Palm Beach, but I am sure that I will never raise that kind of money, therefore, I have elected to do the less costly way to rest him. I am looking for donations. If enough people gave as little as $5.00, I would be able to rest my father.
I am going to try and make this very long story short. I am from California. I was born with a stepfather and a stepsister. I did not know that they were steps because they were the only father and sister to me that I knew. I had THE BEST childhood that anyone could ever ask for. Me and my sister were the closest brother and sister you could imagine. We were thicker than blood. One day, when I was ten years old, my mom sent my sister off to school by herself. I think she told her that I was sick. My mom then packed our things and we walked down the street to a motel and never looked back. We walked to a motel a few blocks away and met a man there. My mother took a job at a Jack-in-the-box and met this man there and began to have an affair with him. everything was put into the back of a pick-up truck and we left for Ohio where her sister, my aunt lived. Within two weeks of being with this man, he began to severely beat and abuse my mother and me. he began to steal from stores and involved my mother and me with the threats that we would get beaten if we didn't. I begged my mom for us to leave, but she wouldn't. I told he that we could leave and go to the police station, a woman's shelter, to a Church and that there was help there, but she was so infatuated, I think, with his bad-boy ways, that she could not pull away. She began to enjoy the thrill of stealing and started to threaten me and go against me. After two years of daily beatings and abuse (they also started to drink and abuse marijuana) I ran away from home for the first time. We were then living in N.Y. I ran away seven times and each time I was caught by the police (usually for sleeping in the park, a doorway, or on the subway at three in the morning). One time, a lady saw me eating from the garbage can and called the police. They returned me back home. The ride home from the station was full of threats from Both my mother and this man and, the moment I walked through the door, the beating started. I finally ran away successfully and was on the streets at thirteen years old for three months.
It was in the wintertime and I had found a comforter that someone washed and hung out to dry. It was in the 40's that day and I was very cold. Although the comforter was damp, it provided shelter from the elements and the wind. I took it and hid beneath it under the Coney Island Boardwalk. I was so cold and shivering but I could not go inside because it was a school day and I thought that because I was dirty and my clothes were not clean, that I would stand out and eventually be returned home again. I started to cry under the blanket and my dad Robert, and his wife Stephanie, who were there in Coney Island to celebrate their wedding anniversary (they met on the Boardwalk), heard me beneath the wooden slabs. They came to investigate and were shocked to see this boy there, still showing the scars and cuts of abuse, literally freezing to death. They immediately put me in their car and turned the hear on ever so slightly to slowly warm me up. They asked me what happened and I begged them not to take me to the police station for fear that they would only return me back home. They took me to their home in Long Island while they thought of what to do. They could never have children. After awhile of not seeing or hearing any reports of a missing child, they made a home for me and home schooled me and kept me safe. Stephanie would pass away two years later from cancer, so now it was just me and my dad. We have been together ever since. When I needed him, he was there for me. When he needed me later on in life when his health was not good, I was there for him. I believe it was God's great plan for us.
I am here because I have no money to have my father rested. This great man put EVERYTHING on the line for me and I cannot even rest him. It weighs heavily on me that he is still in the hospital morgue because I cannot tell him where to send him to to be rested. I have found the Neptune Society (1-888-637-8863) and they gave ma a very reasonable quote of $1,599.00 to take care of him. I am looking for donations in any amount to help me in this matter. If you would like to help my father and I, you may email me directly at: email@example.com . I can accept donations via PayPal. You do not need an account to make a donation. If you are touched by my our life story but cannot afford to help, perhaps you can email this writing to your local news station and perhaps they will air a segment asking the public for donations. Perhaps you can also email it to the Neptune Society as well ( http://www.neptunesociety.com/fort-laude
Thank you for taking the time to read about our life and about a man who gave all to help save and improve upon a life that would have otherwise have been devastating. May God bless you all.
With great Respect,