As I look back on the years, I find so
many  things I learned by just watching
you closely.
You taught me I wouldn't always be able
to keep my temper in check, possibly because
I am Italian, or maybe because I inherited
your passionate respect for truth and decency.
You showed me in a hundred different ways
the value of loyalty, and how it hurts to have
a friend betray your trust and cause you to
grieve.

So many times when I doubted myself, you
would tell me I could do anything I really
wanted to do, and made me try just a little
bit harder to succeed.
You let me see my bad points more than
once, but kissed away my tears after you
were done.

I recall when I was sick as a child,
listening for your key in the door
when you came home from work, knowing
the first thing you would do would be
to see how I was feeling.

I remember watching your thick wavy
hair begin to thin and the lines around
your hazel eyes deepen, and it was then
I realized that I would not have you
forever, but I knew this quiet bond
of love and respect we had forged
quietly through the years would always
remain.

The day I remember most, was the day
you died at fifty-four...
it was the saddest day of my life.

--

copyright June 2000
Judith Anne Labriola