One year ago, on December 18, 2016, I received the most dreadful news of my life.  My father was gone.  It still seems so surreal to me.  One never really imagines how life will be when you lose someone you love so much.  I believe most of us can say we love our parents, but for me, I not only loved my father … he was my only hero in life.  That may sound a little cliché, but some little children admire superhero comic book characters, others want to emulate their favorite athletes, and still others idolize celebrities from movies they’ve watched.  However, I really only wanted to be like my dad.  Even back in the sixties when I was just a small boy, and before I ever knew the meaning of swag, my dad most definitely had swagger.  When dad made his descent down the stairs in the morning on his way to work, he was always so polished in his shirt and tie.  His suit was crisp, his Florheims buffed, and the crease in his pants were as sharp as a knife.  I remember how the distinct and pleasant aroma of Old Spice filled the room when he walked through.  It was a fragrance that was very popular in those days. When my dad talked to me in a close proximity, I could smell Listerine.  It was never over powering, but his breath was assuredly fresh.   Daddies walk was so distinctive.  He always walked with his head held high.  And he walked with purpose.  His pace was so fast, and he maneuvered between people like a wide receiver heading for the goal line.  As a small boy, I often found myself breathless trying to keep up with him.  Since he was a young boy, until his college football days and beyond, dad was always athletic.  He was the captain of defense for the South Carolina Bulldogs.  I personally loved hearing the stories of his days playing football, and he loved telling them.  One of my favorite stories was how he got his nose broken during a game.  He was defending a much larger opponent that repeatedly used his helmet as a battering ram against my dad’s face.  Unlike the football helmets in use today, there wasn’t very much to protect someone’s face from a collision in those days.  Eventually, remembering that most large guys are somewhat vulnerable from the waist down, my dad decided to go lower in his stance.  Hike one, hike two, hike three, my dad laid the giant down.  Dad remained athletic throughout his life.  One of his favorite games was paddle ball.  I use to accompany him, to watch him play against one of my uncles’.  I admired his quickness.  I always desired to emulate my dad, but his shoes were just too large for me to fill.  Whenever I got the opportunity to go see my dad, we would spend hours and hours talking to about everything.  Growing up I missed so many years with my dad, that we would spend hours trying to catch up.  No matter how determined I was to get back on the road at a reasonable time in order to get home at a descent time, I always found myself leaving between two and three in the morning or later.  Even though I had to drive five hours or more, I didn’t care. It was always worth it to me, and I hated having to leave.  I truly miss my father more than words can say.  I regret that he didn’t get to meet my sons, and that they didn’t get to meet their grandfather.  As my father’s only son, my sons are the two that will carry on our name, even long after I am gone.  For me, New York will never quite be the same without him..