The first time I ever rode a motorcycle was with my Dad.  Back then it didn't matter to take your three year a old for a spin on your new motorbike.  It would be fun as I would cling ever closer to him with his strong arms around me. I could still remember feeling excited yet very safe.    Dad would also be good with surprising all of us siblings with.."ok who would like to go for an evening treat "? That is, of hot asado bun  and cold A & W glasses of root beer...pile all 5 of us into  his thunderbird and and off we went. He liked taking us for these special  jaunts with our Mom. He would also be sure to take our whole family every Sunday to visit our grandparents! uncles and aunties and cousins on his side. He made sure that they know each and every one of us, his children.  Then there was a big gap of 7 years when I accompanied my grandparents to another country to live.   I missed my dad and growing up with my brothers and sisters  but we would see each other every week upon my return.  In 1984,  my dad walked me down the aisle on my Wedding Day. How happy and proud I was!    I was always wanting more time with my Dad, time that somehow eluded me for years. In the  final days we enjoyed that long sought after time together. We would engage in conversations about faith, hope and trusting The Lord.   Being together in hospital was not the best place for our bonding , but it surely was most enriching. I will see you in the eyes and hear you in the heart of each of my siblings, Dad from this day on.  And like the lines of one of your favorite prayers go, may I have the courage to change the things I can, the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and wisdom to know the difference. 

It was a cold day in New Jersey when Dad visited us from California. Mom was staying with us and I was about three months pregnant then with Nicholas. Sonny, Mom, Nicholas and I picked him up at Newark airport all so excited to see Dad. How we longed for his visit and he finally came to be with us for a few days in Clifton. The hugs and kisses took forever as we missed him so much, and how much we expressed our thanks for his patience and courage of being left alone in California since Mom was with us. We went home and settled his belongings. We all talked a little bit about how his flight was and decided to eat out so we could do some walking and get some fresh air as well. I remember Dad asking me if I felt alright because I was huge and if I was eating well. On our way down to the garage, he held my hand like the sweet, caring and wonderful Dad that he was, and I recall telling him how fat my fingers were and that he had to hold my hand much tigther so as not to let my hand go. While in the car, on our way to dinner, he laughed like he had never laughed before and enjoyed hearing all my corny jokes with so much pride. I felt his heart. It being so late at night and oh so quiet outdoors after dinner, we decided to take a stroll before we headed back to the car. He held my hand as if there was no tomorrow. He said, " I love you, anak. You take care of yourself and eat right. You are my Andale" (Speedy Gonzalez)".  My heart stopped and I said, "I love you Dad".  He had never let go of my hand until we were back in the car. I kissed him goodnight, thanked and hugged me before we went to bed that evening. He grabbed my hand again and kissed it. His love and affection went straight to my heart.

His hand to my heart. If I could get another chance, another walk, another holding hand with him, I would play a song that would never, never end.

Suzanne