My Dad died three years ago today. He was only 66, but prostate cancer got the better of him. He died peacefully, at home, accompanied by my mother, a brother and a sister. I was 5172 miles away that afternoon, helping a family move house (move slum, better said) in an overpopulated barrio of a large South American city. But that's what cell phones are for, and by 8am the next morning I was in New York, making my way home.
I celebrated an anniversary Mass at the parish near my Mom's house today at noon. We then gathered for sandwiches, eggplant parmesian and champagne. We sat around and shot the breeze for a few hours.
All in honor of the Big Guy.
The Big Guy
(February 17, 1936 - August 16, 2002)
