Dear Dad,

I miss you so.  It’s only been a day and I don't feel like you’re really gone.  Hopefully this feeling never changes.  I’m planning my day and wondering what time I’m supposed to go to Scripps and pick you up to bring you home.  Isn’t this just one of your short stays in the ‘hotel’ as you call it? 
There is so much to say… you’ve been a great Dad.  Sometimes we joked about Mike being your favorite but we both know, I was the twinkle in your eye.  Mom always wanted 4 kids but after me, you said, “no, this is enough”. 

For those that know me, and those that knew my father, I am my father’s daughter.  You passed along your absent-mindedness, your color blindness, your love of water and swimming, your  messiness, your stubbornness, your love of brisket and the ability to forget and wear golf shoes anywhere off the course. I even remember you wearing golf shoes to temple one time!

Growing up I remember the days at Shackamaxson Country Club.  Being a swimmer, you taught us all to swim before we could walk.  And you taught me how to dive since you not only swam but was also a diver in college.  When my fear of heights took over, you used to bribe me to dive off the high dive for a nickel, and it worked.  We spent so many of our summers at the club, you playing golf, then meeting us at the pool and hanging out all day, then driving home in the 2-seater T-bird stacked with the 5 of us.  You loved that T-bird.
We loved it in New Jersey and when you and Mom told us we are moving to California, the shock!  We only knew Elizabeth; that’s where all our friends were. What’s with this place called San Diego? You had to show it to us on the globe.  I guess your SC days were telling you sunshine was better than snow storms and the cold was taking its toll on your and Mom’s health. So, to make it fun, you and Mom mapped out a plan for a cross country road trip in our station wagon with the fake wood on the sides.  Everyone had one in those days.  You and Mom in front, Mike and Robin in the middle with the dog and me in the way back.  I set up my makeshift kitchen in the back of the car and would take everyones orders for sandwiches.  No matter what elaborate orders you placed, I would take it accommodatingly, sometimes asking you to spell it for me and then make you PB&J.  What a fun cross country trip that was.  We saw all the national parks and then nally our new home in Point Loma.

Like you, I followed in your footsteps and joined the swim team in high school. When it came to college, I broke your legacy hopes and went to UCLA.  I remember you giving me my checks for tuition but saying you just couldn’t bring yourself to write it out to UCLA.  And when your fraternity brothers offered me summer jobs, it came with contingencies, for their brother Red, they’d give me a job but only if I transferred schools!  We had a fun rivalry and enjoyed inviting you to our respective football and basketball games.  For some reason, your team always seemed to get the win!  I remember driving up to one of the USC vs UCLA football games and it was on your home eld. Our bet was that if SC won, I had to wear your Trojan sweatshirt and hat to the car.  Your team won, I reluctantly succumbed, and then proceeded to run into everyone I knew on the way to the car.  Then, of course you wanted to go to dinner before we drove home and everyone in the restaurant would come up to me and say, ‘nice game, huh?” Oh how you enjoyed that!
And it was you who got me into golf.  I remember coming home when I was just starting college and thinking it was time to hang up my bathing suit.  What sport should I take up next?  You encouraged me to take up golf, “it’s one of those sports that as you get older, you can get better”. That was it, my next summer, you and I would head down to Stardust in Mission Valley and hit balls.  Hours were spent on the driving range until I was ready for the course.  Once that happened, we had so much time together playing golf.  It was a challenge to get good enough to be able to nally outdrive you.  It took years but eventually, you turned 70 something and I nally could!  I remember when we both had matching 12 handicaps. You were so proud of my golf game and we played in many father-daughter golf tournaments together.  Those were the days.

I remember after you had bypass surgery, you weren’t allowed to drive a car for several weeks.  When you were ready to go back to work selling golf equipment, I was your driver.  We spent hours together on our trips to Hemet, Temecula and Riverside.  I learned so much about your life in the army, when you met Mom, etc.  These hours together are treasured memories.

When I decided to become an athletic trainer, you wanted me to become a physical therapist instead. My rst job was working with the San Diego Sockers. I remember you going to one of my rst games. When someone got hurt and I had to run out on the eld, you were so proud telling everyone around you, “hey, that’s my daughter down there!  She’s taking care of all those athletes”.  You were so proud and it meant so much to know I had your approval.

During the winters in New Jersey, I have fond memories of you grilling chicken and hotdogs in the replace in our den.  It was like summertime inside.  Your love of hot dogs lasted a lifetime.  I’m not sure HomeDepot didn’t put their hotdog carts out just for you.  You seemed to have to run there several times a week for a light bulb, a battery, some tape.  You and I shared Padres season tickets and those were our beer and hotdog outings.  As the years went on, Mom used to beg me not to let you eat a hotdog, she watched your diet so. We’d go to Padres games and sneak hotdogs anyway.  I’d warn you to be careful not to get mustard on your shirt but you always did.  You’d tell Mom it must have been from the person next to you, they were eating a hotdog, not you.  Technically you didn’t lie, I was next to you and yes, I ate a hotdog! Even up until 2 weeks ago when you were meeting with your cardiologist and he was considering increasing your diuretic, you asked whether or not you could have a hotdog!  He scratched his head and asked how much do you love hotdogs?  You took that answer to mean it might be okay.  Mom was too intent on keeping you healthy and on your low sodium diet so no matter how much you asked, it just wasn’t going to happen.  Hope they have hotdogs where you are and you've got mustard all over your hands!

I’m going to miss those crazy colorful Hawaiian fedora hats you loved so much.  And those light blue slacks you loved, which I refer to as your Palm Springs pants.

Dad, sometimes you and I would argue but that was our way of communicating.  It was never with meanness but always with love.  You know you were the twinkle in my eye too.  It’s only been a day and I don't feel like you’re really gone.  Hopefully this feeling never changes.

I want to thank everyone for coming today and in the days to come to help our family during this difcult time.  Many of you have already walked through this transition of losing a parent.  I now know your pain and look forward to your help getting through this deep sadness.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you Rabbi Cantor Bernstein for your support and comfort these past few weeks.  You have truly bonded with our family.  And, thank you for offering to read my eulogy to my Dad for me, as it is just to painful for me to read out loud.