Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Buono Notte, Pops.

{he's the one holding the gun.}

On this day, twenty-nine years ago, my Daddy-O left the planet for The Great Unknown. Being the stubborn Italiano he was, he'd made a promise, and kept it. On the day we buried my mom, a mere six months earlier, he spoke these words to her corpse:
"I'll see you soon."
And then, he sat in his chair, every day for the next six months, eating little, drinking and smoking lots, and willing himself to die.

It was, in my view, one of the most romantic things I'd ever heard of. The man simply did NOT want to live without her. I call that romantic.

Now, all these years later, the things I remember most are his swagger, his devilish eyes, and his righteousness. He was one of the proudest men I've ever known. Sometimes I believe, as I look back on his journey, that same pride was a large part of his slow demise. Other times, I am reminded of how much that pride instilled in me a sense of Self. He wasn't always right, but he loved my mother, and his children, the best way he knew how.

That's really all I need to remember about my Daddy. He loved us. And he did the very best he knew how. 

Still missing you, Pop. Still loving you too.

Buono notte, Daddy.

{see the guy with no shirt and that big, impish grin? that's my daddy-o}

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