My dad passed away a few nights ago. And I do like that phrasing, even though I know many don’t. Maybe I like passed on better. Passed on to somewhere really cool and exciting.
My dad loved adventure. He wanted to go everywhere, see everything. He lived in Egypt. Rode a research vessel to Antarctica and played with the penguins. Was in Hong Kong for the Handover. Meticulously planned elaborate train hopping trips throughout the world for him, his wife, and daughters.
And he loved people. He was married for 36 years. He liked to give his wife little gifts and bring her lunch. He was as close to his two daughters as a dad could be. He told us he was proud of us all the time, whether the accomplishment was big or small. He called us everyday. Everyone who knew him could tell you how infectious his brightness was, how he could talk you into a corner for hours. He always had time for you, whoever you were; he had time for you.
He wanted everyone to live and have fun and chase something grand. He really did. Even if the majority opinion was that to do so was brash or foolish. He was just the most buoyant, inspiring person. He would tell you not to waste your time, so please don’t. Buy a ticket to Tokyo or take up portraiture or admit you love someone. He wants you to. Wherever he is, he wants you to.
I don’t know if his love of where life could take you inspired his love of movies or vice versa. He showed me every great action adventure flick ever made, from Bonnie & Clyde to Bond. He loved Indiana Jones and the 2005 Matthew McConaughey treasure hunt blockbuster, Sahara. Occasionally he would throw in a classic love story, like Sabrina. He loved love (even if he didn’t always emphasize his softness as much as his toughness.) If I was home, we’d watch a movie together every night probably since the day I was born. The last movie we watched together was the recent video game film adaptation, Uncharted, which I can happily live with.
I will always think of him as this mythic hero, like all of the characters he loved. Like Rick from Casablanca, who my mom often joked was my dad when we would watch it (and not just because that would make my mom Ingrid Bergman.) Brave, daring, romantic… That was dad. And we will always have Paris.
It sucks that I can’t talk to him or hug him anymore. But when that pulls me under I remember how much we did talk and hug while he was here. I’m reminded that so much of me is him. And I feel him here with me then. When he’s not, I think he’s having just the best time, charting the stars and riding the moon. When it was apparent he was leaving us, I imagined him not in a hospital room, but zooming across the world in spirit form, having the last few adventures he wanted to try out on earth. He stopped at Mount Everest and Area 51 then moved on to the next universe to learn the secrets of this whole life thing. I can’t wait for him to tell me one day.
Talk soon. Love you, Dad.
loved this friend ❤️
Such a beautiful tribute ❤️