Manuel Santana Botello Jr.

Manuel Santana Botello, Jr. was born on July 21, 1949, at Kelly Air Force Base Hospital in San Antonio, Texas. He was, in his own words, "born Catholic, raised Catholic, and I will die Catholic," and in that faith he lived, loved, and was known.

Manuel attended Paseo High School and later proudly earned his G.E.D. He built his career in the manufacturing industry, retiring after 25 years at Plastic Sales (Fantastic Plastics), where he served as a managing assembler.

What defined Manuel was not his work; it was his faith, his love, and his extraordinary gift for people. He knew no strangers. He believed that every person he encountered carried Christ within them, and he lived that conviction without exception. He saw Christ in the homeless on the street, in immigrants, in those pushed to the margins by society or government, and in members of his own family who carried LGBTQ+ identities. He did not love people despite who they were; he loved them because of who God made them to be. That vision shaped everything: the way he stopped to speak with anyone who crossed his path, his lifelong membership with the Knights of Columbus, and his decades of quiet, tireless service to his beloved parish community of St. John Francis Regis, where he had been a parishioner since 1993.

After the passing of his beloved wife Sandra in 2014, Manuel's involvement at St. Regis deepened in ways that surprised even those who knew him well. He was given keys to the church. He volunteered without ceasing. St. Regis was not simply a place he attended; it was his faith home, the community that held him and that he held in return.

Prayer was the center of Manuel's life, a faith that was formed and deepened through Cursillo retreats and the Charismatic Renewal, New Wine, and House of Prayer movements in the Diocese of Kansas City–St. Joseph in the 1980s. He prayed the Rosary, the Divine Mercy Chaplet, and devotions to the Sacred Heart daily. He wore the Brown Scapular and the Miraculous Medal. He read Scripture constantly, attended Bible studies and prayer meetings, and never missed an opportunity for faith formation. He was a member of the Militia of the Immaculata and called St. Joseph, “my guy.” And perhaps most characteristically, he prayed with people over the phone — for joyous occasions and hard ones, for surgeries and graduations, for protection and for peace — simply because he loved them and believed prayer was the most real thing he could offer. When his grandson Vincent became a police officer, Manuel wanted to give him something to protect him, and he sought out the patron saint of police officers, St. Sebastian, so he could pass that faith on. That was Manuel: faith not kept to himself, but pressed into the hands of the people he loved.

He was a joyous man, full of hope and compassion. He spoke to everyone about anything and lit up any room he entered. Near the end of his life, there were hard days, days when he struggled to find the purpose of his suffering. And yet it was precisely his faith, and the prayers of so many who loved him, that carried him longer than doctors had projected. He believed in life, not only the earthly kind, but the lasting life with Christ Jesus that he had spent a lifetime preparing for.

Manuel was also a complicated man. Complex, and at times difficult to understand, even for those closest to him. He could be expansive in his love and yet struggle to express that same love to the people nearest to his heart. He made mistakes. He carried wounds, and sometimes passed them on without meaning to. And yet the man people loved was inseparable from his humanity. He believed, deeply and without exception, that mistakes do not disqualify a person from love — because that is how Jesus loved. Manuel loved others with that same conviction, even when imperfectly. And he hoped, perhaps, to be loved that way in return. Not because he always got it right, but because he believed, every human being, every creature of God, deserves nothing less.

Manuel is preceded in death by his beloved wife of 27 years, Sandra Botello (née Torres); his father, Manuel Botello, Sr.; his mother, Hortensia Nava Botello; and his sister, Gloria Botello.

He is survived by his daughter, Angelique Rocha (née Botello), and her husband, Paul; his grandchildren, Paul (Michael), Vincent (Celina), and Nick (Danielle); his great-grandchildren, Sofia and Augustus; his brother, David Botello; his sister, Yolanda Pastena; and nieces, nephews, godchildren, and many cousins. He is also survived by his son, Fr. Damian Torres-Botello, SJ, a Catholic priest of the Society of Jesus, whom Manuel welcomed as his own through his marriage to Sandra.

Visitation

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

10:00 – 11:00 a.m. | 10:10 a.m. Rosary

St. John Francis Regis Church

8941 James A Reed Rd., Kansas City, MO 64138

Mass of Christian Burial

Wednesday, July 1, 2026

11:00 a.m.

St. John Francis Regis Church

8941 James A Reed Rd., Kansas City, MO 64138

Burial to follow at

Newcomer's Floral Hills Cemetery

7000 Blue Ridge Blvd., Kansas City, MO 64133

A lunch for all will follow at the church.

In lieu of flowers, the family welcomes donations to St. John Francis Regis Church and Academy, 8941 James A Reed Rd., Kansas City, MO 64138.