My dad was born in 1939 in a small town in northern Italy. When asked, he would tell stories of World War Two . . . what he could remember. He recalled hiding from the American planes under the kitchen sink with his two sisters or the joy of eating candies and chewing gum thrown to the crowds by the US troops that liberated Italy. However, what he remembered the most was the hunger he and his family experienced.

 
Those stories made me realize that this hunger my father suffered when he was a child marked his life forever. For example, any bread had to be on the table before he ate. He would even eat watermelon with bread. Bread was an important staple that assured him that he was doing well and safe.

Dad lived a full life. He liked to travel, to eat, and to drink. He was an incredible self-taught sculptor and painter (oil and watercolors were his favorite media) and also enjoyed acting. He was an awesome father, husband, and animal lover.
He loved sports, all of them . . . and this is not an exaggeration. He pushed and encouraged me and my brother to play sports, which we always did and still practice. He followed us when we started playing softball and baseball and loved that game so much that he became a manager.

In 2020, he was diagnosed with a very rare form of bladder cancer. The doctor did not believe my dad’s age during his first visit. Dad was in shape, sharp, and looked a lot younger than he was. His journey through cancer lasted six months. However, when friends called, he would reassure them that he was doing well. When people would come to see him, he would greet them with a smile. Until the last day, he fought hard because he wanted to live. He always had hope. 

At his funeral, the baseball teams he so much loved flanked his casket, raising their bats and saluting his passing. Many people came to say goodbye to my dad, rock, and friend that day. I miss my dad, and it hurts. Even if we lived on two different continents, I knew my dad was there, he was there to answer my phone calls, he was there to answer all other kinds of questions, he was there to support my decisions, he was there, period, as he had always been, all my life. Now, there is a void in my heart that I know I can never fill. On my phone, I often watch a video of him because I want to make sure that I never forget his voice. I do not want to forget how to live a full and happy life either. After all, that is what he would want me to do.