Thanks to those who’ve taken the time to follow these posts. It’s been a bittersweet journey, but a valuable one for me.
This week, I went down to help my close up shop on my father’s life. For a poor kid from the backwoods of western Marin, grandson of an Italian immigrant, a high-school dropout who left home at thirteen and slept above the lanes when he worked as a pin-setter at the local bowling alley, he did pretty well.
His life was filled with love and grief. He had four talented children, but saw one of them succumb to addiction. He loved two wives, but saw them both die before him. He did not have a great number of friends, but those he had he treasured deeply.
I will miss him. I already do.
But all his troubles are now become as smoke, leaving him once more free of pain and worry.
Ciao, Papa. And thanks.