They rang a bell for you in the town where you were born and signed your name in their book.
It must have been beautiful to hear your spirit echo through that little village.
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Flushing Meadow feeding the horses, the zoo, and merry go round.
Coney Island, the aquarium, the merry go round, how I wished I could get a ring like you and Ivanka.
Watching the planes leave La Guardia from across the Grand Central.
Long Island City and machine shops, how I can easily brought back by those smells. My first naked woman sighting on a wall calendar.
Streams in the woods of Harriman, Rockland Lake, and Bear Mountain, days along the Hudson.
Car shows and imported cars. How you loved that Mercedes coupe.
Model rockets and the adventures with them.
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A divide happened as we moved north, maybe it was age, maybe it was ideals.
You have become blurry over the years to me, complex.
I have challenged myself to be more understanding of who you are, what you tried to do, and the decisions you made. I want to believe it was all out of love expressed by a man who had been through too much in life and could not express his pain.
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One of the last things I said to you was through all of this I know we love one another. Father and son relationships are complex.
Goodbye Dad.