I just got a call a few minutes ago that my father lost his fight with Alzheimer’s and had passed away early this morning so I thought I’d write him a short letter.
I can still hear the excitement in your voice whenever I would call. Thank you for showing me so many things that at the time, were hard for me to hear. I absolutely hated it when you’d make me sweep the entire parking lot of the restaurant with a small broom but now I look back and know that all you were doing was instilling in me a good work ethic.
I will miss your hearty laughter that went from a belly laugh to high pitched ripples of joy. I will miss the times we got up at 4am to go buy warm bread from the bakery. One loaf always disappeared by the time we got to the restaurant.
As short as you were, I’ll never understand how you made those hook shots on the basketball court. I never saw those coming. I’ll try to practice mine.
You loved classical music and because you did, so do I. I’ll pass that on to Mackenzy after she grows out of the Disney phase.
I’ll try putting peaches on my cereal again like you used to do for me.
In keeping with the Ramirez tradition, I will always rattle my keys as I open the front door to let my brown-eyed girl know that I’m home.
Although we were apart for a while here and there, I wouldn’t have traded you for anything or anyone else in this world.
I will miss how we always ended our talks on the phone. I always wanted to be the last one to say bye so here it goes…
Bye Pop. I love you.
I’ll see you in heaven.