Forever Seventy - A Daughter’s Tribute To The Man Who Taught Us Laughter Is The Best Medicine
I remember calling last year on his birthday—bright and early, like I do most days.
He answered his FaceTime with the smile that lit up every room he’s ever been in and said,
“Morning, Lynn.”
I laughed, “Happy Birthday, old man… can you believe you made it to 70?”
His shoulders shook as he laughed, head swaying side to side while we joked back and forth.
In truth… I was shocked.
As most of us were.
His health had been a battle since his 40s—something that kept all of us on edge for decades.
And still… he kept going.
He persevered through it all and somehow always came out on top.
Despite the daily pain—autoimmune disease, chronic back issues, and more than most people could quietly carry—he never let it define him.
He was up early every day, bringing his grandchildren to school—starting way back with his granddaughter when we were still in Jersey.
He made sure doctor’s appointments were handled, especially Mom’s—driving her around like the passenger princess he eventually turned her into.
When they moved to Florida, Mom had him on a schedule.
Yard work until 11am—no negotiations.
And like clockwork, that would end with a dramatic swan dive into the pool…
while she stood at the sliding glass door, watching him soak in the sun in all his glory.
That was them.
Forty-five years of choosing each other.
Every single day.
In sickness and in health wasn’t just something they said—it was something they lived.
With patience, with grace, and with a kind of love that didn’t pretend to be perfect… just real.
They built a life for their children and grandchildren that can only be described as something truly rare.
And then… April 12th changed everything.
Morning coffee will no longer include you physically by mom’s side on FaceTime — however, I don’t doubt you’re within reach of every step she’s taking.
Our hearts ache with the simple thought of not hearing you walk through that front door — the sound of your cane clicking with each step.
Your wandering eye at the dining table as we play a ferocious game of “Jimenez Rule” Rummy.
The Yankee game playing in the background on an astronomically high volume — as you murmur under your breath, “No one can give us back our ‘98 Yankees.”
Or, your infectious belly laughs that have us in stitches right along side with you.
Dad, Pop, Uncle, Ted — I am forever grateful to call you my DAD.
Many of your grandchildren relish in the memories of having you as their father figure first as well as an unforgettable Poppa.
Your family knows you as the sweet June-bug/Jr who will be missed terribly.
And your Hunny, oh your hunny may not get to SEE you daily — but know, she FEELS your presence already… and you’re kinda freaking her out.
We love you and may you rest in peaceful paradise. 🕊️♥️
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