"I hope I live long enough to see your baby girl."

With his hand on my nearly 9 month swollen belly, I listened to my father's last words to me.  He passed away later that evening, with my mother by his side, hand in hand.  They had a very good life together, however cut very short by his brain tumor that came on without notice, with a vengence and took him from us at the age of 65.  He never saw that coming.

I gave birth to my youngest daughter, Julie, 2 weeks later.  He never knew my brown-eyed baby girl, third of 3 daughters.  Yet to Julie, my father was her guardian angel.  She announced this to me when she was around six years old.  She would tell me that she dreamed of her grandpa and that he watched over her.  It was a revelation that both stunned me and comforted me.  He had become her loving guardian...a grandpa to her even in death and an entity that to this day, she openly expresses with certainty and claims this precious connection with him.  She once drew a picture of him in school which her teacher showed me at one open house.  Her grandpa was flying over her like an angel with a big smile above her.  A smile on her face to match, the picture was rooted in love, security and knowingness at such a tender age. 

Dad would have loved this addition to the family, already ripe with grandchildren from his 7 children.  Dad would have loved to play one more round of golf, celebrated another weddding anniversary with my mother, whom he loved more than anything.  He would have loved to take one more vacation to his beloved time share in Mexico; loved to have attended one more Sunday Mass in prayer and gratitude; one more dinner date with mom to their favorite Italian restaurant in the town he loved. 

This is only a short memory and acknowledgment of my father's passing, 21 years ago today.  So much more could be said about this wonderful man, husband, father, friend to many.  He left a huge gap in my heart where once there was daily conversation, shared jokes, the sound of his laughter, the look in his eyes when he spoke of our mother and his children.  His life had been blessed with health, happiness and a genuine appreciation for every day he occupied this gift of life.  He loved every minute.  He gave me more incite, an ability to see humor in everything, a strong work ethic and an understanding of the essence of spirituality, from which I thrive today.  He was strict and his expectations of his children were high.  He was old school.  He was a bigot at times but a lover of life, all of the time.  He was hard knocks.  He was a softie.  He was my heroe.  He was "Big Gray."  He's my dad.  And I miss him dearly.