Today marks the second anniversary of my father’s passing. Dad died following a lengthy battle with prostate cancer, just a few weeks after celebrating his 90th birthday.
Dad packed a lot of living into those 90 years, leaving an indelible mark on the lives of those who know him. He charmed with his legendary wit and storytelling ability, and inspired with his generosity and understanding.
It was from Dad that I inherited a passion for travel (not to mention food, one of his other great loves). A global jetsetter during his entrepreneurial days, he never lost his wanderlust, continuing to rack up frequent flier miles well into his 80's.
I remember perusing a list of destinations served by an international airline with him, amazed when he said that he’d been to nearly every single one (including London and Rome upwards of 30+ times). I considered it a great accomplishment when I finally traveled somewhere he had never been – Australia – and was able to share it with him in the same way he had regaled me with tales of his own journeys to the far corners of the world.
As for his gastronomic pursuits, Dad would have been the first one to admit he lived to eat. While somehow managing to stick to a very disciplined diet, he thoroughly enjoyed the pleasures of a good meal.
Many times, after dining out with friends, I would call Dad to give him a blow by blow description of each course. He invariably responded with enraptured sounds of delight.
It felt fitting to spend tonight having dinner with friends. Many of the best meals I’ve ever had were with Dad. I know he was there in spirit -- just like he always is whenever I need him.