“i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it”
— E. E. Cummings
In Bereavement Ministry, we often talk about the “Calendar of Grief” — those dates forever etched in our hearts: a loved one’s birthday, the anniversary of their passing, wedding anniversaries, and holidays like Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.
Today — May 12th — is one of those days for me as it marks the 15th anniversary of my Dad’s passing.
Dad lived a beautiful life of 85 years, yet grief teaches us something profound: no matter how long someone’s life has been — or how brief — when we love deeply, we always wish for more time.
That rainy morning, I drove from Princeton to Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, NJ where my siblings, my Mom, and several grandchildren gathered around Dad’s bedside. One by one, we told Dad how much we loved him, and with each expression of love, Dad gently squeezed our hands.
Then, as Dad took his final breath, we looked out the hospital window and saw a rainbow stretching across the afternoon sky — a moment none of us have ever forgotten.
When I look back at these photos — one from my Confirmation in 1967 and another from 1982 — I’m reminded how the moments that shape our lives are often the quiet ones we almost overlook at the time.
One memory especially stays with me.
It was in late August of 1977, just before I was to begin my Ph.D. studies in Economics. I was torn between attending NYU or Fordham. Everyone I talked to seemed to be steering me toward NYU, one of the finest Programs in the country. Unsure of what to do, I spoke with Dad.
He simply said:
“Jack, why don’t you go visit Fordham today and see how it feels – you already know how NYU feels?”
So I drove to Fordham’s Rose Hill campus in the Bronx and within ten minutes of walking those grounds, I knew I was home.
That decision changed the trajectory of my life in countless ways — including meeting my future wife there as a fellow Ph.D. student.
As we grow older, we begin to realize that what once seemed like small conversations with our parents were often the life-defining moments.
Fifteen years after Dad’s passing, I still find myself looking up to him — just as I did in that Confirmation photo Mom captured so many years ago.
Grief teaches us that we do not “move on” from those we love but we take them with us because the hearts of those we love become forever woven into our own hearts.
Shortly after Dad passed away, my daughter Katie called to ask how I was doing. I told her:
“I just wish I could have one more hug.”
Katie quietly replied:
“Dad, one hug would never be enough for Poppy.”
She was right. It never would have been.
And so, fifteen years later, just like EE Cummings said in the poem, I still carry Dad’s heart with me everywhere I go.
So How About You?
What small moment with someone you loved later became one of the defining memories of your life?
