Raymond Bardan

Hi Dad.  When I spread down rock salt on the ice this year, I recalled a memory that involved you.  I remember shoveling the stairs (front and back), sidewalk down alongside the house, driveway and sidewalk alongside the street.  When I was a child and I was helping you shovel, you taught me how to thrown down rock salt.  I must have been doing it wrong so you told me that it was like feeding birds bird seed.  Then you grabbed a handful of rock salt in your hand and spread the rock salt little by little dropping it between your thumb and fingers.  You made a noise like you were calling birds, too as you threw the salt down the stairs.  You acted it out all goofy and made it fun and I laughed.  I remembered this moment each time I put rock salt down this year.  I remember you making shoveling snow fun.  Always doing something silly.  You enjoyed working and busting your hump.  I know you are looking down, happy to know that you can count on me to shovel your house out when you aren't there to do it.  I feel a little closer to you when I do it.  Love and miss you, Dad.  I miss your grumpiness and your quiet company!  Please say hi to Mom for us on this sad, sad day :( xoxo

Hi Dad. The last time I was afraid of losing you was when you found out you had aneurysms. I remember the whole family gathered in your room when the neurologist came in to talk to us in his foreign accent. I was so scared.
I remember you walking Mike, Dennis and I out of the hospital because they kept you for a few nights. You were already talking about quitting smoking to try to slow the progress of the aneurysms. When we started leaving, we all gave you a big hug. You seemed scared too and needed a hug as much as we did. I said I Love You and you said it back. It was the first time we hugged since I was a little child. Or said I Love You. It felt then like you now had a time limit. But little did any of us know that day that you would live for another ten years. And those aneurysms seemed to disappear. When we got to our cars, Mike and I hugged. He told me that we all need each other now. Then he said he didn't know what he would do if he lost Dad. He didn't know if he could hold it together. I felt that same anger and helplessness. That was a really tough time but you weathered the storm. And I guess I learned to feel comfortable again. I miss you Dad. I wish there was an amazing success story this time. Xoxo

Hi Dad. I still think back to the time when I came home all proud because I got my bartenders license. You got home from work and I showed you my license. You asked me what drinks I could make and asked how I was going to practice. You ended up suggesting we go to Sterling Liquors to see what they had. We walked down and you must have spent $50 on liquor and a six pack of Coors Xtra Gold beer. You asked me what liquor to get. You ended up buying Midori, Triple Sec, Creme De Menthe, Creme De CoCoa (for grasshoppers), lemon mix, lemon juice, grenadine, vodka, gin, amaretto disarona, i think Seagram Whiskey and other stuff. You were excited for me and wanted to help me and support me. It was so wonderful that you did that for me pops. It means the world to me even now.

Before we left, you grabbed a bottle of Sloe Gin and asked me of I knew how to make Sloe Gin Fizz. I told you that I studied it but didn't remember how to make it. You told me you remember drinking it when you were younger. It was one of your favorite drinks.

We got home and I looked up Sloe Gin Fizz in my new bartender flash cards. You squeezed lemon juice from those plastic lemons you used to buy and we mixed in Sloe Gin and club soda. You were anxious to try it and commented on how good it was. Then you gave me a sip. It was delicious. You showed me your shot glasses and your old jiggers. i had never heard of a jigger and you showed me how you used to use it to properly measure out your drinks. We bonded...
I remember Dennis being right there on the side of us trying all the different drinks we made that night. A great night.

I brought home the remaining bottles of liquor from that night just the other day... Nearly 10 years later... It was hard to take them out of your cupboard. It felt like I was disrupting that memory. You bought them, it feels like they belong there so we can make more drinks together some day. :( I ended up making a Sloe Gin Fizz Saturday for me and my friend Bob. I told him it was one of your favorite drinks. I drank it in tribute to you and thought of you as i sipped it. It was as delicious as i remembered.

Hi Dad. I remember many Sundays where you'd spend all day in front of the TV when I was a kid. You work your butt off all week and even Saturdays. Sunday was your day to rest and relax. A popular station was TV38. It would play movies all day long on Sunday. I remember watching Predator for the first time with you on a Sunday. You were all excited to have someone watch it with you. I remember you would always comment "nice gun!" during the part the one big soldier mowed down a part of the jungle with a gatling gun. Conan the Barbarian was a common movie for Sunday matinees too. Sometimes you would watch westerns too (AMC). I used to love watching movies with you especially when you would react to them. I miss you so much Dad.

Hi Dad.

I've been thinking a lot about the days after Mom passed away. How you handled Cheryl. The things we talked about. Spending a lot of time at the house with you. How shocked and upset you were.

i was amazed at how well you handled Cheryl. You told her Mommy is gone and its just you two now. You told her that she has to talk to you when she felt sad. You told her that Dennis is there for her. Mike is there for her. Denise is there for her. Richie is there for her. If she was sad, she has to tell somebody. If she wants a hug, she has to ask for one or give us one. You cried as you spoke, almost not in full belief in the words coming out of your own mouth. I could tell it hurt you to say that Mom was gone, almost like you were trying to get it to sink in. Over and over, you told Cheryl that Mommy isn't coming home...

You folded the clothes that Mom had washed and dried but didn't get to fold. I watched as you folded, thinking that it should be Mom that was folding those clothes. I watched your technique at folding. For some reason, it brought up old memories of you folding clothes from years ago... Something about it... The way you tapped your fingernails against the table as you gathered the fabric as you folded it. I think i remember seeing you fold many many years ago.

You seemed happy that i was spending that particular night with you. You were sleeping on my mattress. I had a double mattress set up and the second one was leaning up against the wall. You dropped the second mattress and we slept side by side.

i never thought i could feel like the house was still the same home we all grew up in after Mom passed away but you managed to make it feel like home again. The family man inside of you that you were hiding all these years came right back out. You graciously and selflessly offered us leftovers, offered to make me ice cream sundaes, baked pies, brownies, cakes, homemade lemon squares with real lemon and all kinds of bread, you watches movies with me and you sent us all cards for birthdays, anniversaries and fathers/mothers days. You did Cheryl's hair, makeup and nails and treated her like a lady. You are a stand up guy Dad. You rose to the occasion and now, it truly feels like the house is empty.

its been so tough breaking up all of you and Mom's belongings. It only seems fitting that all your stuff stays together seeing that all the things tell a story about different times of your lives. You tried everything in life: making your own bread, slicing your own meats, making your own mixed drinks, making your own ice cream, popping your own popcorn, making your own smoothies and juicing your own juices.

Uncle Frank said it best the other day: every time he talked to you, you were doing something with the family. "His family was his life."

I miss and love you so much Dad. Each and every little thing that made you so unique and you were ours... Just not long enough.