Visions of My Father: Ode to Killer Joe

His hand gripped my bicycle seat as he ran alongside me that warm summer day. Even though he was young and strong, he was breathing heavily, keeping me upright while we made our way down the street. "Don't let go me go, Daddy," I said as I concentrated on steadying myself. "I won't let go of you, honey; not until you can do it on your own." My father spoke in short breaths as his feet kept the same pace on the ground as my feet on the bike pedals. I was scared, but with my father by my...

His hand gripped my bicycle seat as he ran alongside me that warm summer day. Even though he was young and strong, he was breathing heavily, keeping me upright while we made our way down the street. "Don't let go me go, Daddy," I said as I concentrated on steadying myself. "I won't let go of you, honey; not until you can do it on your own." My father spoke in short breaths as his feet kept the same pace on the ground as my feet on the bike pedals. I was scared, but with my father by my side I felt safe and protected, and I knew that one day I would do this on my own. With my father by my side, I knew that he always would be there to pick me up, hold me upright, and make everything okay. I want to share my Dad, Joe Romano, with you and what a wonderful father he was—such a character! For a life so large, no words will ever be enough, but I dedicate to him on this March 14th—his birthday—these memories and all my love. And I wish you too, dear reader, inner peace and a life filled with love.