Today’s my Daddy’s birthday. He would’ve been 86. He left us way too soon at 59. Our family never recovered from this unexpected devastating loss. We sort of all spun outward in every direction from the center of what, or who, held us together. But, does anyone ever really recover from the loss of a parent or sibling? No, I believe it stays within us and informs the way we view everything in the world. There’s always a longing to go back, for one more day, one more hug, one more laugh, one more unanswered question. And yet, I know, if I am being honest, that one more day with him would only bring more pain as the inevitable clock strikes midnight calling me back.
I’ve been writing about Daddy a lot lately. I have a family trip planned for October that has me thinking about family history and immigration, among other things. I’m going with a large group of cousins, and a sister, to Italy to visit the village that his dad, my paternal grandpa, came from. I’m looking at it as a homecoming of sorts. A completed circle. A “this is where we came from” experience. A beLonging. A “these are my people” moment.
More to follow…
My Dad Franklin Delano Capaldo the original Selfie taker and son of an Italian immigrant.