Sadness About My Dad

I have had a couple of really sad days missing my dad.

I have been receiving some wonderful recollections about him, three which are really special since they are from family members who I haven't heard from in years. My dad had a first cousin Vivian, who I remember with tremendous joy. She lived in the DC area and my dad and she were always close.

Vivian had two kids, a son, Robert, and a daughter Susan. Susan is no longer living, but her two children, Marna and Ethan, who I still have old Christmas photos of are. And I received really special emails from all three of them (Now I am going to cry again...) Apparently my dad made quite an impression on them and influenced them all in the area of art. What a gift.

Well, Marna sent along some fabulous photos, one of my dad kicking up his heels in the air while dancing back in 1951. He loved to dance. It is a marvelous photo. When I can get it saved separately I will post it. I sent it along to the people planning his memorial service. It just captures him so well.

There are other issues relating to my dad that also bring me much sadness. The individuals managing my dad's website have not contacted the family for information related to a tribute to him, yet have written information that reads as if they are the family spokespeople.

There is information which is incorrect, including the date of my dad's death.
There will be a memorial service at FIT on the 29th of April, and a scholarship fund is being established in his memory.

There is more, but that is for another day.

Please be sure to share your love with those you love who are still living. It is so important.

Peace.

For people interested in remembering my dad with a charitable donation, there is a scholarship fund being set up at Fashion Institute of Technology.

Meeting Roman

My dad taught art at FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology). He taught there since 1985. That's a long time.

He spoke to me about his students a lot. One in particular. His name is Roman. But there were others, and I had the privilege to meet three others, Lisa, Jonathan, and Orlando while my dad was in the hospital. As a matter of fact, Jonathan called tonight; I must return his call tomorrow...

But I could tell Roman was special. My dad spoke of his talent, and the fact that he had grown to love him like a son. The son he never had, the brother I never had. But I told my dad he was better than a son because he is an artist, and artists share a special bond.

I wish we had met under other circumstances...but if I am totally honest, perhaps it wouldn't have been for quite some time, really, if ever, as we continued to lead busy lives.

Roman was one of the first people I called, and he stayed long hours, holding my dad's hand; his left hand; his drawing hand. Talking to him, sharing stories, particularly about recent escapades they had this past summer in Rome together.

My parents were in Rome and as it happened, Roman was on a month long trip with one of my dad's office mates, Sal Catalano who was leading a course in Florence. Roman took a couple of days away and hopped a train and joined my mom and dad in Rome, where he said he had a hard time keeping up with my dad. The twenty something kid lagging behind the guy about to turn 80. Full of life as he always was. He told me a particularly funny story about a visit with a Tailor in which my dad sketched him and presented him with it; a sketch of a tailor whose craft was no longer quite as appreciated as it once was. I know there were times my dad felt the same way about his work. I discovered the photos from that trip in the apartment, and Roman emailed me some as well.

While we were in the hospital, I asked Roman if he had any of my dad's original work. He said he didn't. I replied that would need to change. That is what my dad would want.

It is late and I have another long day tomorrow. My church family is bringing us meals, and the support continues to pour in.

The grace notes to follow will include stories of Bedlington Terriers, Live, Love, Poems, gifts of books, and an opportunity I had to share with one of the neurosurgery residents who has a thing or two to learn about compassion.

Walk slowly, walk softly, speak little, listen much and pray always. And be an ambassador of love and peace. Love always wins. Always.