My Father The Prince.

Tomorrow marks the second anniversary of my father’s passing.  May 4th. A day that will forever be ingrained in my heart and memories.  A day that, despite his aging, I was just not prepared for….but are we ever?  May 4th, I lost a little piece of my heart because he took it with him….

I want to say that with each year, his loss becomes a little easier to bear….those proverbial waves of grief come fewer and further in between….but they still come. 

They come when you least expect it.  A sound, a smell, an image….will bring everything right back.  Visiting my mom in the apartment they shared is not easy…still….as I always expect him to come back in the door and give me his half crooked smile. That smile that always came with a glimmer in his bright blue eyes.  His desk is as he left it. Sometimes I just stand in front of it and swear I can feel his presence. 

I can’t even write this without having to hold back tears.  It’s too much, losing a loved one. It breaks you and leaves you forever a little bit raw.

My dad was special.  He was the softness that combated the harshness that my mom often was. He was kindness and unconditional love in human form.  He was an angel. 

He lived through so much and yet had no hard edges, no spite, not a single character defect other than to be too forgiving and allowing people, all too often, to take advantage of him.  He taught me by example…with never a harsh word or raised hand….and damn it I miss him.

So much.

The year before he passed away I was able to write his life story in a blog not many have read. I just wanted to put his memoirs in written form so that he would always be remembered….even if just by his grandchildren. I didn’t proofread or edit it….I sometimes look at it and cringe at the typos, and maybe someday I’ll go back and fix them…but I just wanted to get his story down which was an emotional experience in itself.

I often wrote chapters through tears.  Hard putting fingers to keyboard and explaining all that had happened to him.  I want the world to know what a great human being he was…yet at the same time want to keep him private. Sacred. 

I didn’t get to finish his memoirs until shortly after his death….I felt compelled to wrap things up after writing his eulogy.  It was cathartic yet not quite healing. I don’t think you ever heal.  Grief just takes on different forms….or maybe you just grow stronger. 

I’m still trying to figure it out.

So….I’m taking today’s post and dedicating it to my dad and his story.  I’m sharing the opening blog post of his biography below….with a link to the rest.  He was a Prince in bloodline but most importantly in heart, and valor, and soul.  If you had the honor of meeting him, you know what I mean….if you didn’t, then I hope his story inspires you and lets you understand why I still adore him. My beautiful, beautiful Apa.

 A Little Introduction…

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