As I write this, I'm sitting in Aunt Cindy's apartment in New York City. I'm here to celebrate her 50th birthday, and also the birthdays of Aunt Pam and Aunt Sandy. It feels strange to be here, on the banks of the Hudson, seeing friends I've known for so long. Today is also the 22nd anniversary of my father's death, and my memories of New York as a child are so tied up with my memories of my dad.
We always drove into New York from Poughkeepsie; we never took the train, so getting here and finding a parking spot was always very stressful. I think my dad had a love/hate relationship with this city, hating all of the people and the traffic but loving the photo shops we stopped at, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, taking his family on an outing. When I got older, Pam and Sandy and I sometimes took the Metro North train up to the city- I think we saw a show once? But mostly, the City for me growing up was both a big, scary place and a place intimately tied to our home, which also looked out over the Hudson River.
So today, I went for a run on the Hudson. I listened to John Denver, who is probably the only singer my dad and I could agree on (the other singer he liked was Elvis, and I just can't). But you know John Denver; he sings 'Take me Home,' that song you like to run to. I was running along the banks of the Hudson, feeling at home in this big city. Now, I feel like I can take on the city and appreciate all that it has to offer, and I feel so thankful for all of the opportunities my parents gave to me.
Life for my family has not been easy these last 22 years. I miss having a father, and I wish you could have known your grandfather. I see him in you- in your smile, even in the shape of your nose, I see him. When you sleep, I see the way he slept, and I know that he lives in you, in us. But it's not the same. Nagyi lost her husband at a very young age, had to sell the house, move to Hungary, and is now trying to figure out what to do. I know she misses him deeply all of the time.
That pain, that grief, will never go away. But sometimes it feels like, despite all of it, life will work out. During my run today, John Denver's version of "Let it Be" came on my playlist, and I thought about the fact that my dad carried around a little statue of the Virgin Mary with him. I thought about the lyrics of this song, and how much time and anxiety we spend trying to figure out where life will lead us. Sometimes it just leads us, and there are angels, like your grandfather, who light the way and show us where to go. Sometimes we just have to trust that things will work out, that God has a plan. It's easy to forget that when we miss the people we loved, but sometimes, like today, I'm able to be in the moment and just Let it Be.
