My father. I thought I was lucky to have him. A caring, understanding father. Who comforted me, and guided me, as I went, step by step through Life. I thought I was lucky.

My father.

And yet the pain is unrelenting. When I think about him. When I think about is healthy laugh. His assertive voice. His gentle personality. It kills me. It tortures me.






My father.

I recall memories. Memories of clutching my father’s hand. Clutching them as he walked me into his office. Clutching his hands as we walked down the crowded streets of Manhattan. Clutching them as he walked me down the strange and unfamiliar. Clutching them as I went through the troubling and the dangerous.






My father.

And I recall that day. The day that I clutched his hand. He was lying on his back, flat on his bed. I recall the tears falling as I clutched his hand. Splashing on his arms. I noticed a single tear fall down his face. I begged him not to leave me. Not to leave me alone in this lonely world. Don’t abandon me, I pleaded. I could feel him squeeze my hand harder. As if to tell me that he was still there. That he wouldn’t leave me.






My father.


I longed to hear the musical sound of his laughter. The calming sound of his voice. I longed for his guidance. To feel his warm, comforting embrace. His wonderful bright-eyed smile. To walk by his side. To know that he was there for me.






My father.


And I recall that day. I clutched his hand harder. I begged him to fight. He only looked at me, and smiled weakly. I pressed my head down, against his chest and let his sheets soak up my tears. He moved his hand slowly through my hair.






My father.


And I remember, those summers that we spent together. Walking together parallel to the shore. Ankles in the water. He would brush his hand through my hair. And we could walk like that for hours. Basking in each other’s presence. I begged god to bless me with one more chance. One more chance to listen to his musical laughter. One more day to spend with him, walking together near the coast. One more chance to feel his reassuring embrace.











My father.


For that would not be. On October 7, 2006 my father passed away.