My dad was that rare human being that every single person loved. He was a beautiful spirit who just wanted to make art. I think that this was true his whole life as we have now found so many photographic slides that he took as a boy. He made his living as an architect which allowed his art to take form in the shape of buildings. But when ever he could, he was making his own, unique art. From painted canvases to pen stipled drawings, mobiles and 3D art. Not to mention chalk art in his beloved city of Tucson. He could hold conversation with anyone he met regardless of their race, religion or political leaning. He was kind and enjoyed conversation. He hated the local news!!!because he just wanted positive energy in his space. He dreamed. He dreamed big. He would be one of the last people at the party….not wanting to miss a thing. Fun right to the end. When he was diagnosed with cancer I was in denial. I mean, I knew he had cancer and I could see his health rapidly declining. That's putting it mildly. But I refused to believe that he would leave this earth. I just couldn't go there mentally. We sat by his side and watched the disease take away our vibrant friend. And now that he's gone I find myself thinking about what I could have said to him before I didn't have the chance. I try not to dwell on that but every now and again that thought pops in and it's always something new. Today I thought to myself, as I was making a dinner salad and thinking “dad would love this salad”, I had the wish that I had told him that I was sorry that cancer happened to him. He, like so many others, was robbed. One day back in the late 90’s when I lived in NYC my dad was dropping me off at the train station after a weekend visit home. As I was about to get out of the car to catch the train, my dad handed me $100. You see, earlier that weekend I was sitting around with my parents and some of their friends and one of them asked me about all the cool stuff I was doing in NYC now that I lived there. He imagined that I was going to the theater every weekend and enjoying all that the city had to offer. But the truth was that I was a 20 something working in an entry level job at an ad agency. I barely had enough money to go out on the weekend and keep my wardrobe up to date. So when my dad handed me that $100 he said “Use this to go to a show or do something amazing in the city. You know, I have so many dreams, Sara, and I just hope I live long enough to fulfill them all. I want you to live your dreams”. It went something like that but the line that I'm 100% sure of is this: “You know, I have so many dreams, Sara, and I just hope I live long enough to fulfill them all.” I thought of this almost daily as I moved through my 20s and 30s and now my 40s. Of all the things that my father ever said to me, this stuck with me the most. I wanted that for him so badly. I wanted him to fulfill his dreams. I thought he had plenty of time. I might not always be following my dreams but I'm always remembering my father’s dreaming spirit. He was one of a kind. Just ask the thousands of friends that he made in his 72 years.
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