My dad was this blog’s biggest fan. He read it religiously and phoned me to ask where the leftovers were of anything I made. If I hadn’t posted in a few weeks, he called to tell me people were expecting me to write and to get on it. He shared this blog with everyone he came across and told me to, no matter what, keep it up.
I lost my dad to complications of brain lesions (spread from what the doctors believe was a cancer they could never find) on September 9. So many events have happened in my life since I started the blog, but this one has the biggest impact.
My dad was one of my biggest supporters. No matter what recipe I tried, or what food I brought him he told me how good it was and easily ate it all. Weeks would have to pass before he could muster up any truth to me: “well, really, it needed more salt” or “no, Laura, that one wasn’t that great.” I can understand why he didn’t want to tell me anything critical since it often left me feeling as though I had let him down. My dad strived for the right thing, the right way, all the time.
Dad’s theory in life was that we can push through anything. It’s one of the lessons that will always stay with me. We all have the strength inside of us to keep pushing ourselves forward, to let fear and hesitation fall by the wayside, to make what we want to happen, happen. Dad did just that these last few months – he pushed hard to get through treatments and symptoms. He pushed us all to keep going no matter what doctors said or how he felt. So I need to keep going with this blog.
He was fiercely proud of being Italian, cherishing the language, the music, the culture and the food. In this last year he had become obsessed with righting a wrong from when he immigrated to Canada. Upon arrival, French nuns changed his name to Louis (not knowing how to spell or pronounce Luigi) and he had been given that name on all his identifications ever since. He hated it and spent hours on the phone trying to get his Italian name back. Recognizing and celebrating his heritage was, and is, important.
He taught anyone around him that family is everything. When my aunt’s kids were young, I remember him repeating to them constantly: “Who is your best friend? Your brother. Your sister. That’s your best friend.” And he meant it. He cherished having family all together, all the time. He never hesitated, not once, to help out anyone – whether it was to just fix something or to give advice. He spent hours fixing my house, tending to my newborn son and loving us however he could. He once spent three hours on the couch, with my newborn on his chest, letting us all get some sleep. He taught me in that moment what a father and grandfather, and for that matter a compassionate family man, really is. And he loved every minute of it. It is my favourite memory of dad. The memories and importance of family are why I need to keep going with this blog as well.
I know that I can never replace his presence and his love in our lives, but I can do my best to follow in the footsteps of a man who was strong, passionate, generous, driven and, in so many moments with family and friends, simply joyful. I will lead my family the same way Dad did. I hope that makes him proud. Dad, I love you. In his memory, I’ll be back to blogging shortly.