Dad would stand there at the kitchen stove, a silver pan sitting on the burner. He would add the cooking oil to the pan and make sure the heat was just the right temperature. From the other room you could hear the tink, tink, tink, sizzle, sizzle, sizzle, as each kernel would hit the hot oil as he poured it in. We all knew those sounds. Dad was making stove popped popcorn. The lid would find its way onto the pan, to keep the contents from escaping too soon. Then Dad would move the pan back and forth over the heat, making a low scraping sound with each motion, as the kernels and oil merged.

Then as if out of nowhere the pops would come. Slow at first, then faster and louder. The pop, pop, pop would release the aroma of the treat inside the pan. When the pops would slow, Dad would take the pan off the stove and smile. He would add melted butter to the top of the popcorn and if we were staying at home, he would pour it into a big bowl for all of us to share. If we were going to the Drive-In movies, the popcorn would go into a large brown paper bag, with the top rolled down to seal it closed. My Dad made the best popcorn. Oh, how I miss my dad and his wonderful popcorn.

It was a pretty normal Tuesday morning, 12/15/2020 and my mother called me — she said she was having horrible pains, could I come over.

I drove to her nearby house and sure enough she needed to go to the hospital. That entire day was a fiasco and the communication from the hospital was extremely poor. (It is important to note here that on Thursday of the previous week she took a COVID test and Monday received the negative results, she was also again tested in the ER on 12/15 and received negative results.) I did find out that my Mom was going to have emergency surgery that evening. (That whole day was a mess with communication with hospital and consent forms. I was not permitted to stay with her in the ER. I was listed as the person to contact – no contact was made.)

My Mom had the surgery and I was able to visit her the next day. Surgery seemed to go well and she seemed pretty good the next day. I was literally skipping out of the hospital when I left because I was so happy about how well it all went. Due to visiting policies, I was not able to go back to see her until Saturday.

But, on Saturday she just didn’t seem as awake and alert as she was on Wednesday. She said she just didn’t feel good. My sister went on Sunday and called me to say Mom just doesn’t seem like she feels well. I visited on Monday and she was not feeling well at all. We kept telling the hospital staff — they said it was just the hospital stay — it makes you that way.

The next day she was sent home in late afternoon. I stayed with her all day Wednesday 12/23/2020. She did not feel well, was super tired and didn’t have an appetite. By evening she spiked a high fever, high enough that I became concerned and called her surgeon. Her surgery site looked fine so she took more Tylenol and tried to rest.

My poor mother moaned and groaned all night long in misery. Finally in the morning she was so sick I knew we were going to have to go back to the hospital. We thought maybe it was a UTI. I made a few calls to doctors and they said to take her into the ER.

Not long after I dropped her off at the ER I received a call from my sister — she’d tested positive for COVID-19. On January 8, 2021 my mother lost her battle with the nasty virus and passed away.

We are all still devastated, in shock, traumatized, and horribly heartbroken over the loss of our mother.

Another example of always thinking of others before herself: When I hiked Volcanoes National Park in Hawaii with my daughters, 10 acres of new volcanic shelf fell into the ocean before our eyes causing a massive mushroom cloud, and we had to evacuate immediately.

My wife Laura, who had stayed behind, saw the cloud and grabbed water before beginning to run our way. We had run out of water shortly after beginning our 7 mile hike to the lava flow, and were showing signs of heat distress on our hike back in the 90 degree heat. I was having serious thoughts of calling for rescue when over the horizon an angel appeared carrying the 3 water bottles that may have saved our life.

A mother, an angel, and so very loved !

Before I went to sleep last night I begged my Dad to visit me in my dreams. I have dreamt with him a few times but never on my request.

I was really feeling out of it. I didn’t want to celebrate Father’s Day since I no longer have one physically to celebrate with. Well guess what? He came and looked so angelic and like himself.

So, I have a phobia of rodents. When the little sneaky things got in our house — Omg I’d get all dramatic and my Dad, being my hero, made me feel not so scared.

Well, in my dream, there were pigs on my roof. I go screaming inside the house, “Paaaaaaaapppiiiii! There are pigs on our roof! Call animal control!”

It’s Sunday are they open? Omg how did they get there ( I was going a thousand miles a minute) My Dad laughs and says, “Jennifer, relax, they are pigs. They will come down and go somewhere else.”

He didn’t call animal control but his reassurance that everything was going to be ok meant everything. Thank you, Papi, for stopping by. I love you. Woke up wanting to cry but all I could do is laugh. Felt so real.

Cannot believe today is my 3rd Father’s Day without my Dad. Very strange that it seems like he was just here.

Dad enjoyed the simpler things in life. Throughout my childhood and adulthood, in the morning we would walk to the Borough Hall for a delicious Father’s Day brunch. Dad loved the blueberry pancakes they served and looked forward to this brunch every year.

Then we would return home for Dad to open his presents. A favorite he would receive every year were homemade chocolate covered cherries from the local candy shop. He would always pass the box around to share with us. That’s usually the last time we saw those cherries.

We would just hang around the house all day. Dad would read his newspaper out on the deck. The trees would be blowing in the wind providing shade and the perfect breeze. Dad really enjoyed this.

Then Dad would go inside to watch his favorite baseball team play on TV, the New York Mets. After the game, he would always take the obligatory nap.

Then for dinner, some years we would go out to a restaurant. But most years, we would have a bar-b-que where Dad would man the grill. Mom finished with all the salads and corn on the cob while Dad cooked the burgers and hot dogs, to everyone’s preference.
After I was married, my husband took over the grill for Dad, giving Dad the chance to relax on his day. Those dinners out on the deck were the best!

Then we would have his favorite for dessert, strawberry shortcake. After we cleaned up, sometimes we would go out for a walk.

What I wouldn’t give for just one more Father’s Day exactly like this.

Then more recently while Mom & Dad were in assisted living, my husband and I would have brunch with them there, then later I would go out and bring back a lobster dinner for Mom (her last in 2018), a steak dinner for Dad along with dinners for my husband and I. Of course, we would have the required strawberry shortcake for dessert.

Then, unbeknownst to us, Father’s Day together with Dad in 2019 would be our last. My husband and I had brunch with Dad then later we took him out for a steak dinner to his favorite restaurant. His strawberry shortcake for dessert, of course, would be waiting for him in his room.

We almost made it to one more year in 2020; but Dad passed away from Covid on June 7th, two weeks before Father’s Day, my first without him.