This photo is 7-8 years ago. But my dad got a kick out of the beard I grew back then so we’ll go with it.

My dad passed away last week. It was not unexpected and in many ways a relief. Lewy Body Dementia is a ravager and it did not spare him.

Lots has been written about the above and grief, so I won’t bother here other than to acknowledge the sadness of finality and the natural thoughts of one’s own mortality.

While I mourn the loss of him, as well as some of what he was never able to give me, I ultimately remember three favorite things.

1. Favorite thing he provided. My dad suffered from an extremely neglectful upbringing which resulted in him essentially raising himself. As an adult, what he wanted most, was to create a permanent place where his family could be. He accomplished this. ‘Til the end, I never doubted I could crash at mom and dad’s place if it was ever needed. Several of my dad’s relatives benefitted from this as well. He never really had a home growing up – I did.
2. Favorite thing he taught me. Dad always taught me to think for myself, think critically, and never hesitate to walk my own path. Now admittedly, this didn’t play out quite how he meant it. He said this repeatedly in regard to following a religion that was not mainstream. Nevertheless, the lesson continues to serve me well.
3. Favorite memory. Growing up, I was a HUGE Boston Celtics fan and a Larry Bird nut. I’d get up early to read the recaps, track stats, build scrapbooks, the whole nine yards. My 6th grade year, it just so happened the Celtics were playing the Seattle Supersonics during Christmas Break. Even knowing we didn’t have a lot of money, I begged my dad, who also hated driving in big cities and driving through snow. He did it for me, complete with snow on the pass and twice getting utterly lost in the city. Larry Legend dropped 36 points and grabbed 10 rebounds that night while dropping his signature fade away on more than one occasion. The Celtics lost that night but you still couldn’t wipe the smile off my face.

Grateful,

Ira