Lasting Memories

A Moment I’ll Never Forget

I was 17, stepping into the house after a night out, probably feeling a bit of a buzz from the evening’s adventures. There he was—my father—sitting on the floor, his back against the chair, a guitar in his hands, strumming a tune. One leg was bent, his other stretched out, and in his hand, a cigarette held firmly by none other than my roach clip, a small gift from a friend.

The look on my younger sister’s face was priceless—half alarm, half disbelief. Did he know what a roach clip was used for? At the time, I wasn’t sure. He just welcomed me home with his usual calm presence, as though nothing about the moment was out of place. Later, I realized he probably did know. He had mentioned once that he understood what a “contact buzz” was, though he never smoked himself.

But that was my father. An immigrant from a small village near Rome, he had this incredible way of living as though the world was his to explore. Full of curiosity, knowledge, and a knack for seeing life from perspectives most people missed, he was anything but ordinary.

He opened my mind in ways I couldn’t have imagined back then. He taught me to look beyond the surface, to explore the strange and the beautiful, to see life as a never-ending puzzle of fascinating pieces. That moment, like so many others, was a reminder of the man he was: unconventional, insightful, and always ready to share his wisdom.

He didn’t just teach me about life; he showed me how to live it fully. And for that, I’ll always be grateful.

Day My Father Rewrote My Story

December 21 has held me in its grip for 27 years. It was the day I received the news that would change my life—the day I was told I had cancer. For nearly three decades, it lingered as the worst day of my life, a shadow that refused to leave.

And then, my father—my wise, extraordinary father—passed away on this same date. The man I had loved all my life, who filled my world with insight and wonder, left this earth on December 21.

I can’t help but feel he had it all figured out. In his own quiet, knowing way, he transformed that day from one of fear and struggle into one of love and remembrance. It’s no longer the day cancer entered my life; it’s the day the man who shaped so much of who I am chose to leave.

It’s still the worst day of my life, but now for a different reason. It’s a day that carries the weight of his love, his wisdom, and the endless gratitude I have for being his daughter. In his final act, he rewrote my story, as only he could.

Thanks Dad