Father’s Day 2024 — A Remembrance Post

The last few weeks have been full of mixed emotions, often going back and forth between sadness and confusion. This last week was especially difficult, as my dad and I often celebrated my birthday and Father’s Day weekend together.

My dad was not a private person. He was proud of who he was and was dedicated to writing every little personal detail out in the open. Mom and I were sometimes reluctant for all the information out there in the public, but today, on Father’s Day I can’t help but to feel thankful.

My grandfather passed in 2003. He was my dad’s best friend. After his passing, my dad wrote articles about him to honor his memory. My grandfather isn’t the only person who passed my dad wrote about. He wrote about many people he cared about. That’s who he was, he believed people should be remembered. He wanted to honor them, even if it meant only sharing the smallest fragment of their life story.

In honor of him tonight, I am sharing the eulogy I wrote at two in the morning before his funeral last month.

“ A Journey of A Lifetime — With You

On October 28, 1997, my dad published an article titled, A Journey of a Lifetime. It was the first of many columns he published about my life. 

Over the years, my dad wrote many stories about my family and me, but he also dedicated a lot of time to his friends and community members. 

Every December, he would sit at the dining room table. Spread across would lay mailing addresses, envelopes, and cards. Music in Hebrew would play just a little too loud on the stereo. That's when I knew he was getting ready to send out his annual holiday cards. 

As much of a project that was, holiday cards weren't enough. He would meticulously write up his infamous newsletter, The Cains-Kessler Chronicle, on his computer, writing about his family's accomplishments of that year and hopes and wishes for the next.  He would devote hours to editing every fine detail to make the edition perfect before placing them in envelopes to send. 

I didn't appreciate the emphatic music echoing through the house then, but it was inspiring to watch all the finished envelopes stack up in a pile, anxiously waiting to go out in the mail. 

My dad helped make the holiday season the best time in our household. Before devoting the next few weeks to cards, our family kicked off our holiday season in November, the week before Thanksgiving. My dad participated in a charity event called Gourmet Guys, sponsored by New Hope Inc., a charity dedicated to creating communities free from violence and exploitation. 

My dad and several other men would prepare a dish to serve at the event. My dad would always serve tuna casserole, a dish he also prepared for my sister and me, every Monday night before he left to go to work at The Sun Chronicle. While the charity event stood for a good cause, it brought greater memories of my family spending time together over delicious food, raffles, and activities. 

Around early December, my dad would think of new questions to add to his annual Chanukah quiz, which he called Chanukah Charlie. He would always give it out at our synagogue party. I always got the questions right, but I think it had to do with knowing the man who created the quiz in the first place. I fondly remember lighting the menorah with my dad and eating potato latkes. 

My dad also loved the Christmas spirit. Our family would go to La Salette Festival of Holiday Lights, a local light display in Attleboro, followed by dinner at Briggs Corner Grill and Pizzeria. 

My dad taught me a lot. He showed me what it is like to have a loving and caring father. He showed up to all of my dance recitals and graduations. He gave me a stuffed animal on Valentine's Day, even as an adult, and sent me cards for every holiday occasion. The last card I received from him was last week. 

I watched him support my sister at her high school track and field events and university soccer and lacrosse games. He wrote articles about the games and proudly wore the Johnson and Wales University sweatshirt. 

I watched him care for my mom. He would buy her flowers on Mother's Day,  her birthday, Valentine’s Day and their anniversary.  He always remembered an important milestone in their relationship. More importantly, he was there when my mom needed him the most. 

My dad also taught me he was not a handyman. Tools, cars, machines, you name it. I learned this was for the better after he dropped an air conditioner out the window one summer. If my sister and I had a question about our car, we could find better help on YouTube. 

After watching my dad run for so long, I followed his spirit and started to train for races. He cheered me on at my first marathon in Providence, Rhode Island, in 2022. We ran a race together shortly after, finishing second place in our age division. There were 13 females in mine and eight males in his. We proudly took a picture together. 

As I sorted through pictures of my dad for his funeral, I saw his life unfold in a blink of an eye. Somehow, in the time capsule of photos, my dad's fashion sense seemed to freeze after he married my mom. That's how it goes, though: show your best self before you marry the love of your life. That way, they don't see what they signed up for. Every picture after they got married looked the same. My dad wore the same signature outfit for every occasion:

• A green or blue button-up shirt with pockets to fit his glasses and pens

• Jeans

• His gray New Balance sneakers.

I wonder if he knew his fashion sense is trendy in Brooklyn. 

My dad's favorite holiday was Passover, a time in the Jewish religion to reevaluate these two core values: hope and faith. 

I'll be honest: It's hard to have hope and faith when someone you love so much is gone. It's been difficult to try to relive the moments of this past week. It still doesn't feel real. I keep thinking my dad has to be on the longest run of his life. I mean, anyone who knows him understands that his runs are actually just walks at this point. Maybe he's just taking a lot longer than usual.

As much as I would like to believe in that delusion, I know my dad would like us all to continue to have hope and faith during this time. 

Wherever my dad is, I hope he is running marathons again, traveling to the moon, and finding a comfortable bench to read the newspaper. More importantly, I hope he can rewatch his life from start to finish to see how much love still surrounds him. 

My dad wrote that adopting me was a journey of a lifetime, but the real journey of a lifetime was spending the last 27 years with him. I'm going to miss him so much.”