Arturo Acosta Jr., better known as “Toro,” took flight on Friday, April 17, 2026. He was born to Arturo Sr. and Anita on December 8, 1962 in San Antonio, Texas.

From the start, he wanted to be the best and in his mind and to those around him, he definitely was. Didn’t matter what it was. If he did it, he did it with “Acosta Pride,” and that meant everything to him.

Growing up in San Antonio, Toro made sure people noticed him. He had the best bike on the north and south side of town. First one out of his friends with a radio on it. AM at first, then he leveled up to AM/FM. When it got stolen, he didn’t sit around feeling sorry for himself. He figured it out. Took bikes apart, put them back together, and built his own. Sometimes at the expense of his sister’s bike.

He was a lover and a fighter. Wouldn’t back down from anybody. If he lost, he’d tell you. If he won, he’d own it. But one thing about him, he loved hard. Nothing halfway with him.

He met his wife Sylvia when they were in their early twenties. They got married in March of 1990, and stayed together 36 years. Not perfect, but very real. Through everything life threw at them, they stuck it out. She stood by him through all of it. Every high, every low. Sylvia didn’t go anywhere.

Toro…he wasn’t easy. Stubborn as they come. Set in his ways that’s for sure. He carried his demons with him from a very young age. It got him into trouble, and put him in and out of prison. That’s part of his story too and he never pretended to be something he wasn’t. He owned his mistakes and it made him a better man.

In those tough moments one thing never changed, his love for his family.

He and Sylvia had three children: Arturo, Stephanie, and Melissa. They were his world. He made sure they knew they were his pride and joy. He worked hard to provide for them. And when he couldn’t be there, he always wrote. Toro made sure they knew he loved them and missed them. When he would get home from work, his kids would fight over who got to pull his boots off first. That says everything about the kind of dad he was.

Toro was a landscaper most of his life. He could really do just about anything, but landscaping was his thing. He took pride in his work. Every yard had to be right. No shortcuts. Perfection is what he strived for. He worked until his body told him no and even then, he kept saying he wanted to go back.

People who didn’t know him might’ve been intimidated. He had that “don’t mess with me” look. He was respected. Kids in the neighborhood always addressed him as “Mr. Acosta.” Nobody messed with his yard. Nobody messed with his family.

If you knew him, you knew his heart. He was the biggest softy and such a goofball. You’d be walking up and he’d put on his “binoculars” just to let you know he saw you. He’d often stop the ice cream truck and make sure the neighborhood kids all got something. Cost didn’t matter as long as everyone was able to get something.

He gave everything he had. Didn’t matter if it was his last. His love was definitely shown in his actions.

Arturo is preceded in death by his father Arturo Acosta Sr., his mother Anita Del Bosque and his sister Maria Jesusa Acosta.

He leaves behind his main squeeze and ride or die to the very end, his wife Sylvia. His son Arturo and his wife Denise. His daughter Stephanie and her wife Larissa. His daughter Melissa and her fiancé Valerie. His grandchildren; Natalie, Arturo, Nova, Marivel, and Marisol. His sister Rachel and her husband Oscar, his sister Anita, his sister Leticia, and brother James. He also leaves behind a whole lot of other family and friends.

And of course, can’t forget, his little dog PenKe, his shadow, and his movie watching buddy.

Toro lived his life his way. Not perfect. Not easy. He was the original Go-Getter. And he will be missed dearly.

---

Per his wishes we will not have a service. It will just be a viewing for guest to come and pay their respects. 

We will share a few stories below. Family and friends who would also like to share are more than welcome to share below in the online guestbook. 

From Sylvia: He was always working and made sure he did what he could to provide. He started his day early and say ok lets go have breakfast. It was either Casa Chacon or Santos. 

---

From Mel: So some things you may have read but this is my point of view, so buckle up buttercup. I'm just kidding. Growing up without him was difficult but, even then he did his best. I remember when he would send multiplication charts to help in math when I was little. He had the nicest handwriting.

He was a jack of all trades, this man can cook and if he wasn't the one barbecuing I didn't want it because he never burnt it. There was a time he made food on the stove and I remember just turning to him mind blown because we could've been eating this the whole time!

When I had car issues I would give him a call and he would say to bring it. Later he would have a solution. I always wanted to build a car with him but life and time just didn't let me.

I would call him with a leak problem and he would explain how to do it and what I need. I would just nod cause I honestly had no idea what he meant but the next day he was there showing me. I'm telling you, he knew everything because I saw him remodel a bathroom and again I was mind blown.

I believe I got my passion of cars from him, I'll randomly walk in wherever he is and "VROOOOM!" He would say it so loud I swear I froze like an opossum and we just laughed. When fast and the furious came out he would tell us how he would race down military even though it was automatic he said you gotta put it in low then you gotta change it and his car would jump and take off, he didn't always win.

It just now clicked to me that we all speak in movie quotes. I would get a call and he would go, "breaker breaker, what are you doing?..." "Oh, cause mama told me you made some cookies and I don't have any in front of me." We would laugh and I took him some cookies or whatever I made.

He always has a sweet tooth, you could find whoppers, twizzlers or those little pinwheels by his bed side.

I will miss his advice. If I got bullied he would tell me to tell them, "put 'em up sucka." And my mom in the back "que put 'em up, nombre don't listen to him. " and he would just laugh.

I remember I wanted to go somewhere and I asked if I could (he was, you know outside listening to his music) he said you have to dance first. So I copied his little dance and we just laughed. Sometimes he would get mom to dance with him.

He was always joking, laughing and always enjoying himself.

But he was the hardest worker I've ever known, no matter how hot, rainy or cold he was out there. I would tell him about my work days or when I got a promotion and he would smile and say, "it's because you're an Acosta, you're a go getter." I just wanted to be like him and I am, which I'm proud of.

Oh and this man can drive. I can't explain it well but he backed a suburban (no backup cameras) between a fence and another car with no hesitation on the first try... you just had to be there. I was always amazed by him.

And.... you know how you can find where my parents lived. You can find the yard with the greenest grass, kept up garden, a cat on the porch (he was the biggest animal lover) and the cleanest edges and of course my dad sitting outside with my mom.

He was the most loving, caring, hard working and extremely helpful dad out there (trust me on that). There are so many stories and so many tears. I will forever miss his jokes and advice. I will miss my dad.. and his silly faces. 

---

From Steph: Growing up, my dad was in and out of prison. That was definitely hard. But when he was out, he was there, and he did his best to be a part of everything.

My dad didn’t have the opportunity to take me to my first days of school in elementary or middle school. But on my first day of high school, I was nervous and per the usual, I didn’t want to go.

My dad took me. He didn’t just drop me off at the front. He walked me all the way to class and made sure I was good. He met my English teacher, Mrs. Morris. He asked her if we were early because I was the only one there, and she said it was okay and I could have a seat. Before he left, he asked me if I was okay. I said I was, and he told me to have a good day and that he’d see me later.

About five minutes passed, and he peeked his head back into the classroom. “I just wanted to make sure you were still okay.” I told him I was, and he said, “Okay, I’ll see you later… I’m gonna go now.”

He gave me anything I wanted within reason. I had a massive DVD collection growing up. “Dad, can I have some money for a DVD?..." “Here’s $20.” I got expensive I know that, I still am. But I remember he made sure we worked for it too. He’d get us little jobs. His boss and his friends would bring their cars over, and we’d wash them. Boom $20. I definitely got my work ethic from my dad. He was a go-getter. If you wanted something, you worked. If you needed something, you worked. Work hard and take care of your family that’s what he showed me.

One time, I was riding my bike to pick something up from a family member and got hit by a car because I didn’t see a stop sign that was covered by a over hanging tree. It was bad, but I wasn’t dying. I remember my dad coming to the rescue. He threw my bike in the back of his truck, helped me up, checked me over, and made sure I didn’t need to go to the hospital. I was mostly just scraped up. He took me home, and my mom fixed me up.

My dad was often found sitting outside with his drink, Tejano music or oldies playing on his garage stereo. He liked to goof around, and pretty oftern you’d catch him dancing…drink in one hand, the other on his belly, moving his hips side to side, just swaying to the music.

There was one thing he would always sing, “if you believe me, trust me…” I’m gonna be real, I didn’t even know what song he was referring to. But he could just be sitting there, and out of nowhere, he’d start singing it.

We were always very close, our little immediate family. But this past year was tough, and I got even closer with my parents. My mom would always call me and fill me in on life, and my dad would get on the phone to check on us, make sure we were good, and ask if we needed anything.

This past year, and especially in the months leading up, he would call a lot, sometimes just to say good morning and ask if I was working so we could go have breakfast. If I was, he’d just say, “Okay, well let me know when you’re off and we’ll go.” He always ended the call with, “I love you, mija.” I’m definitely going to miss his random morning calls.

There are so many memories I hold in my heart. And although I’m sad, I’m at peace knowing he’s not in any pain and that he’s still here in every memory, every thought… and every “if you believe me, trust me” that plays in my head.