I miss you Dad, I love you Dad. Thank you for your love, your guidance, and your affection. I miss you more than I could have imagined. Thank you for teaching me how to be a good Father. A good man.
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I’m not sure when I first fell in love with you. It may have been when we first met when I was 5. Or it may have been that time I told you I was going to marry you while on our first date.
We were only dating 10 months when I asked for your hand. How well can you know a person after less than a year?
But I knew.
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I don’t pretend to have all the answers. But lately I’ve been implementing a little trick that has helped me. I think it can help you too.
My agency is growing. We have amazing clients. We also produce a world class conference. The conference and the clients are synergistic events on paper. In execution they are at odds. One takes from the other in time, energy and sweat equity. I needed to clone myself, or find a solution.
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In September of 1997, I was in graduate school at NYU. I was living in Queens, NY sleeping on a twin bed in my brother’s living room. He was in Law school at St. Johns. My father had help me to get admitted into graduate school. I felt like a fraud. I studied harder than I’d ever studied before.
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This morning I woke up early. Like really early. The kind of awesome early when (if you have kids) you can relish the time it takes to brew a hot cup of coffee, sit down at the computer and be to your own thoughts. I took some time to meditate and then I sat down […]
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He replied from his bed “good morning.”
Those would be his last words. That evening Papa passed away. It was 16 years ago today.
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I didn’t expect it to bubble up like that, but it did. I can’t change the emotion. It just came, hard and fast. I buried my face in my Father’s neck muffling my sobs.
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It was 2007, and I worked at Azoogle (now, defunct). At the time, a multi–million dollar ad network. We ruled the tooth whitening, colon cleansing, date getting, and ring tone peddling portion of the Internet.
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We all have fear. Some are innate, activating our fight-or-flight instincts. Some fear, however, is learned. That fear is insidious. It seeps into our unconscious paralyzing us to the point where we choose “safety” over the pursuit of our passions. I believe that “learned fear” is the disease of our time. Battle it by taking baby steps. My first step was silent contemplation and meditation. Another was obsessive note-taking. The last step was challenging myself to dream as big as I possibly could, imagining that money was no object, and stepping toward that challenge. I had nothing to lose. Neither do you.
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Mom embodies, the true ideal of “through sickness and in health.” Mom is the thankless soldier, taking on the burden of the entire troop. Her head is bloodied, but unbowed.
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