Back in grade school, when asked to write about my
superhero, I chose my Dad. Today, decades later, that choice still rings true -
he was and remains my greatest hero, my wisest teacher, and my cherished
friend.
Growing up it was an extraordinary privilege to be working side by side with my
dad, then I went into business with him. And for twenty years he gave me a gift
that I cherish more deeply with each passing day. Our daily conversations and
shared experiences built not just a father-son relationship, but a profound
friendship grounded in mutual understanding and respect. Dad had this
extraordinary way about him that I was lucky enough to witness firsthand.
Coming from poverty himself, he achieved remarkable success but never - not
once - forgot where he came from. This wasn't just something he talked about;
it showed in everything he did and every person he encountered.
What amazes me most, looking back, was his instinctive generosity. If he even
suspected someone was struggling - whether with rent, car troubles, or
financial difficulties - he wouldn't hesitate to step in. Dad was an absolute
Giver! There was never a trace of selfishness in him ever. I watched him help
countless people, and he taught me through his actions that this was simply
what you do when you see someone in need. He loved and cared for everyone, in
ways that's even hard to put into words. He never had the "that's
mine" attitude.
Our shared passion for classic cars created some of my most treasured memories.
Together we restored five classic cars, and our trips to Englishtown, NJ for
drag races and car shows were more than just father-son outings - they were
opportunities for him to share his wisdom in that quiet, meaningful way of his.
Through our work together, we built relationships with all sorts of people -
some wealthy, some poor, some incredible, some difficult. Dad had this
remarkable ability to treat everyone exactly the same, while quietly teaching
me important lessons about human nature. He was a very smart, very wise, humble
man.
He would never criticize anyone directly, but he would share observations that
stuck with me. "You know," he'd say, "We know some very wealthy
people who are very stingy and prideful - they won't even help their own
children when they could easily make a difference in their lives." Then
he'd turn to me and say, "Jim, don't ever be that way. You don't have to
be wealthy to be a giving person - it's all in your heart. Don't hesitate to
help your kids, your friends, and even strangers who are struggling." and
further said, "Don't do it for the pat on the back, do it because it's the
right thing to do.”
One of the most profound lessons he taught me was about forgiveness. He urged
me to be forgiving toward those who showed selfishness, whether they were
family or close friends. "Find it in your heart to still forgive them and
love them," he'd say, "it's God's work to change their hearts."
This wisdom has guided me countless times in my own life.
What I miss most is how I could talk to him for hours about anything. He would
listen with patience and understanding, offering insights that showed his deep
common sense, wisdom, and love. Looking back, I realize he was the one parent
who truly understood me. Despite being different from my siblings in values and
life goals, he never judged me for taking my own path. In fact, he would say,
"Are you happy with what you are doing?" I'd say, yes. He then said,
"Then continue doing what you're doing, money doesn't make you happy many,
very wealthy people are not always happy, Jim be happy, I'm happy for you and
proud of your choices." (I chose the spiritual, non-worldly life, which
brings me so much joy.)
When Chrissy and I decided we wanted a big family, Dad understood completely. He
would say, "A big family will cost a lot, and it could prevent other
financial goals." Having come from a large family himself, he knew the
financial challenges his own mother faced. But he also understood and supported
our choice to prioritize family over money. When we lost our first child with a
miscarriage, his support was unwavering. Through our shared tears, he told me,
"Be strong Jim, God will provide. He knows you both want children, God
will bless you." His words proved prophetic. We had 5 amazing healthy kids.
In his later years, I was deeply moved to see him embrace spirituality more
fully, praying the rosary and his prayer time with Mom, every day. I hope that
my spiritual influence in his life helped lead him closer to Jesus. Watching
his faith deepen in those final years brings me comfort now. At his bedside,
minutes before he passed, I prayed the Chaplet of Divine Mercy and then I
leaned into his ear, and whispered to him, "Dad, things between you and me
are good, I'll always love you, and I will miss you so much." I was
referring to an issue we resolved between him and me, involving our business.
Then my brother-in-law walked into the hospital home, sat with me bedside to
Dad, and within minutes Dad stopped breathing, and he was gone.
Dad's wisdom wasn't just in what he said, but in how he lived - with
generosity, compassion, and an unwavering commitment to treating everyone with
dignity. These lessons, learned over twenty years of working together, and him
being an awesome dad, continue to guide me today. I am forever grateful for the
time we shared and the wisdom he imparted, not just through his words, but
through his everyday actions and the way he lived his life.
Dad even FaceTimed with Kenia
The
love between families sometimes blooms in unexpected ways. While my Dad battled
his Parkinsons, my beloved Kenia reached across the digital divide through
FaceTime, creating precious moments that would become cherished memories.
Though my dear Chrissy had passed away in 2016, fate had a new chapter waiting,
with Kenia and me planning our wedding for 2024.
During those FaceTime calls, I'll never forget how Dad's face lit up with joy.
"She is a beautiful woman," he told me, his eyes twinkling with
approval, "I am so happy for the both of you." His wisdom shone
through as we discussed Kenia's Filipino heritage, drawing from his life
experience with Filipino-American marriages. "Jim," he'd say
thoughtfully, "Filipina’s make good, loyal wives." It touched my
heart how he'd fondly think of Kenia whenever he saw an Asian actress with long
black hair in films.
Though Dad never had the chance to embrace Kenia in person, their virtual
connection forged a bond that transcended physical distance. Now, as Kenia and
I keep Dad in our daily prayers, I feel that somehow, across time and space, he
has already blessed our union with his loving approval.
In Summary
And just as I wrote in that grade school essay decades ago, my Dad remains my
superhero. His legacy lives on in the values he instilled, the wisdom he
shared, and the example he set. I love you, Dad - always have, always will.
