Father’s Day

Standard

Papa,

There are no words to express the profound connection we have

our twosome will stand the test of time

the laughter shared

the inside jokes used against mom

the deep political and social discussions we have face-to-face and on the phone

the numerous business schemes developed over the years

the soccer games coached

the plays you’ve researched and traveled to

the planned projects at home

the road trips to family vacations, summer jobs, college and apartment move-ins

the unsolicited advice

the original songs written

the hugs divvied out

the strength shown in the hospital room

your stubbornness

your spirit

your intelligence

you business savvy

the movies watched, quoted and rewritten

the methods shared (on dish washing, home improvement, and New York navigation)

all of this is, and so much more

is the love you have wrapped around me and why I am thankful for you everyday.

Happy Father’s Day, Papa

My dad (center) on the 72nd Street crosswalk

My dad (center) on the 72nd Street crosswalk

i love you 🙂

Family Reflection of Good Friday

Standard

One of the fondest memories I will always have of my childhood is my dad and his guitar. An annoyance on most days, but a welcome comfort always, the plinka-plinka heard from our TV room on early Saturday mornings or as a wake up call to get me out of bed, Dad would play that guitar. Self-taught and playing the same melodies over and over again, I always got the sense that when my dad was strumming, work was over, hard thinking had ceased, and he was relaxed and in his element. I think he now has at least four of those things now (I say things from a place of love, my brother and mom will understand the sentiment) but whenever I’m home he’s always on Old Faithful. 

Last spring, I received a text from Papa and in it was a voice memo titled “Melissa” and he signed it, Love that Lissa! For the next 5 minutes, while I sat on a park bench near Grant’s Tomb, I heard my dad strumming his guitar from our house on Hanging Moss Road, and as each note came through my headphones, a small tear would stream down my face. We had made it to another spring, a spring filled with growth, love, and possibilities. 

I’m listening to this song as I write this entry and the tears began like clockwork once again. How fortunate am I to have a father who loves me so much? To express his love through music. On Good Friday as we think of the sacrifice Our Father made for all of us, I’m thankful and hope you are too for the numerous blessings he has placed in our lives, whether it be a sunny day, a positive outlook, or a few notes played on the guitar by a man I’m proud to call Papa 🙂

Image

Ciao