An Early Thursday Latelies: My Dad.

I’m not even sure where one starts, but I’ll try. After a very long and valiant battle with cancer, my dad passed away on January 17th. And I miss him terribly. I am also incredibly grateful to be Bobby’s daughter. This week, I am thankful for the man who raised me.

Since I’m pretty much unable to talk without crying, I am typing it out. That photo above was taken nearly 15 years ago. I was out with my dad and we saw a photo booth, and he wanted to jump in.

When I think about my father, it seems a flip book of images flashes through my mind. To me, he’ll be forever 30 years old, full of life, health and energy. I remember his 30th birthday, and him worrying about how old he was. It seemed so funny then, and it seems pretty hilarious now.

A man from humble beginnings – the son of a bricklayer, and the nephew of lobster fishermen (all Italian immigrants to Boston), my father valued hard work and education. He didn’t care if I never got married, if I never gave him grandchildren. So long as I went to graduate school, he said he would be happy. So, I did.

The biggest lessons I learned from my dad were: work hard and do the right thing. He would say “Just do the right thing, and hope other people do the right thing, too”.

He was my running partner, the man I called in any crisis, the voice of reason and moderation. He was strong and wanted to shield me from so much of his illness.

More than anything, he just wanted me to be happy. And I am. I took his advice to heart on that. I wish I had more time with my father, and I will treasure every memory I have, and remember him with the fondest of thoughts.

To the first man I loved – I love you, Dad.

Advertisement