For Dad,
When I was a little girl, Vic (Dad) came into my life and quietly decided that he would love me for the rest of my life. And he did.
My parents divorced when I was eleven, but Vic never stopped being my dad. In a world where divorce often means distance, we somehow defied that rule. For over fifty years after the marriage ended, our bond remained steady, warm, and full of laughter. It’s not something you can easily explain, but it’s something I will always treasure: how love can outlast circumstance, how chosen family can be just as real, and sometimes even stronger, than the one written on paper.
Vic was kind in the truest sense of the word. He was steady, funny, and a little mischievous. He cared for me, and later for my family, in countless small ways, the kind of care that builds a lifetime of memories. He laughed at all my jokes (even the bad ones. Who am I kidding? There were never bad jokes), and it became my mission to make him laugh every single time we talked. That laugh, loud, warm, and punctuated with a bit of swearing in French, was pure joy to me.
He was a man who loved me without hesitation and stayed when he didn’t have to. And though he’s gone, that love stays behind as deep, enduring, and comforting in my heart.
I will miss him terribly. But I will also carry with me the gift of having been so deeply loved by him. For that, I will always be grateful. I feel lucky to have called him Dad, because he truly was my Dad. Thanks again for the drum lessons and teaching me the true meaning of never leaving.
I love you.
Deborah McCoy-Denomy, Love Michael McCoy-Denomy and Kathleen Gavin.