It’s been hard to talk since my dad passed away on March 19. Here are remarks I made at the funeral mass.
Sometimes, there are no words. There are no words to convey this sense of loss. I turn to prayer, poetry, memory and to you. But I will try.
Dad loved seeing us come home. He has a special silly welcome song for us – “Welcome, Welcome, Welcome!†waving his hands in the air, saying that he was so happy to see us. He would wait for us, sometimes for hours, sitting by the window. The reason, in addition to him truly wanting to see us, was that as a child my dad didn’t live with his father. One day, his father came to visit him, but my dad missed his visit, because he was away.
Dad was very loyal like that, and he had his stories. He let me follow him around when I made the documentary. In turn, he would talk to me when I was home, saying that I was his captive audience. He loved to talk, especially to the neighbors, so much so, that my mom said he got glued to the chair.
Dad was social glue. Over the years, he would ask me to make phone calls for him. He said it was easier for me to dial the phone. Through that, I was able to meet some of his friends from all over the country and all over the world.
Before we knew him, my dad loved playing soccer, and he loved watching it. I grew up with the Italian and Spanish sportcasters shouting goooallll long before that became a meme. We grew up playing soccer here.
He really taught me the value of kindness and love and I am grateful to see so many friends here today. He also had a lot of wisdom, reminding me to practice deep breathing exercises.
Daddy had quite a sense of humor – some of it off-color, so perhaps we can talk at lunch. He loved eating mangosteens while out traveling and the stinky durian fruit. We had some good adventures together and as a family, the most unique family trip to the prison camps in Japan.
He told me a story at when he was at the prison camp in Hitachi, a shell fell nearby and exploded. A big American cook fell on him and almost killed him. His theory from war: “No matter how big you are, you are just as scared as I am.â€
Dad had a breadth and depth of knowledge about the world. He was learning Spanish over the past few years. It was fun to talk to him and compare cognates in Italian and Spanish. His favorite phrase was to tell other Spanish speakers (and sometimes even to people he knew didn’t speak Spanish) Vaya con Dios. Simply put, it means Go with God. A farewell and a benediction. Vaya con Dios, Daddy. Que le vaya bien.
