My father

My Dad died on July 4th, at age 89. He was lucky to live a good, long life. What I want to tell you about my father is that he loved Olivia and Mateo as deeply and totally as he loved all his grandchildren, from Day One. That may seem an obvious statement—of course he’d love his grandchildren, doesn’t every grandparent? But from the countless adoption stories I’ve heard over the years, I know love doesn’t always happen and it doesn’t always happen automatically.

I cherish many qualities of my father, but his unconditional love for my children may be the quality I cherish most. (The photo of him laughing is one of my favorites. He’s holding his first great-grandchild, my sister Adrienne’s granddaughter. The other shows him with my late, beloved mom, Gerry, the love of his life.) Rest in peace, Dad. Flights of angels.

 

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