On My Father’s Birthday: The Man Who Helped Shape Who I Am

Today is my father’s birthday. Although he is no longer here to celebrate with us, this day still belongs to him—and to the love, lessons, and memories he left behind.

Four years ago, I lost my amazing father to stage-four stomach cancer. There are still days when saying “I miss him” feels far too small for everything I feel. It is difficult to put into words what it means to lose someone whose love, character, and presence helped shape so much of who you are.

My father was the kind of man people genuinely enjoyed being around, even when they had only just met him. He had a magnetic personality, but it wasn’t because he needed attention or wanted to be the center of the room. People were drawn to him because he was kind, welcoming, and nonjudgmental. He accepted people as they were, made them feel comfortable being themselves, and offered support without ever making anyone feel small for needing it.

Through his construction company, he gave many of my uncles, friends, and their children their first jobs. He did more than hand someone a paycheck. He helped people open bank accounts, taught them how to manage their money, and encouraged them to take responsibility for their future. He empowered and mentored people in ways they may not have fully understood at the time. Looking back, I can see how naturally he created opportunities for others and how many lives were touched because he chose to help.

My father had all daughters, and he loved it. He came to our shows and games and made sure we knew that the things that mattered to us mattered to him, too. Sometimes, he would take the whole team out for ice cream, whether we won or lost. That was the kind of father he was. His support was never dependent on an outcome. He showed up because he loved us, and his presence taught us that we were worth showing up for.

My mother would say I was a daddy’s girl, but in a tomboy kind of way. I attended car shows with him, worked beside him as we renovated a ’63 Thunderbird, and even earned my scuba diving license with him. We shared experiences that became some of my most meaningful memories. More than that, I could talk to him about anything, and I did. Knowing I could always turn to him gave me a sense of safety and acceptance that I still carry with me today.

I also had the opportunity to work beside him in his construction company during weekends and summers. Those experiences taught me about hard work and responsibility, but they also gave me time with him that I appreciate even more now. At one point, we talked about changing the name of the company to “FPA and Daughter.” It never became official, but the fact that he imagined me standing beside him in that way has always stayed with me.

He also had a love for travel and exploration. Fifty years ago, that meant driving throughout New England, finding new restaurants, and taking family vacations at the beach or Lake Winnipesaukee. He especially loved the beach, and that is one of the many things we shared. I love the beach, too, and being there still gives me a sense of connection to him.

He was a classic-car fanatic. He judged shows and attended more of them than I can remember. One he attended for more than 25 years was the annual car show in Lake George. He had just arrived when he suffered his first stroke, although we didn’t know it at the time. The four months that followed changed our lives in ways we never could have prepared for.

Even at the end of his life, he remained positive and easygoing. He was pleasant and kind to the nursing staff who cared for him, treating them with the same warmth and respect he had always shown others. Even while facing something so difficult, he did not stop being himself. That says so much about the man he was: his kindness was not reserved for easy moments. It was part of his character, and it remained with him until the end.

My father and mother sacrificed so much for our family. I know there are countless things they carried that we may never fully understand, simply because they wanted their daughters to feel safe, supported, and able to create lives of their own. I cannot begin to capture everything my father taught me about life and love, but I see his lessons in the way I live now.

I see him in the way I care for myself, my family, and the people around me. I see him in my desire to encourage others, help them recognize their own strength, and offer support without judgment. I also see him in the business I am building—a business created to help others care for themselves and feel less alone in what they are carrying.

One of the most personal parts of my work is BLISS Through Grief. I created this section from my own experiences of losing people I deeply loved, including my 35-year-old brother-in-law, my father, my nonna, both of my papas, and two friends to suicide. Each loss was different, but together they taught me that grief does not follow a timeline or move in a straight line. It changes us, asks us to make room for emotions we may not understand, and reminds us how deeply we have loved.

My mother passed away more recently, after I had already created BLISS Through Grief. Her loss brought another depth to something I thought I already understood. It reminded me that no previous experience can fully prepare us to lose someone we love and that grief can feel entirely new each time it enters our lives.

BLISS Through Grief was never created because I believed I had all the answers. It came from knowing how lonely loss can feel and wanting to offer others a compassionate place to land—a space where they do not have to rush their healing, hide what they are feeling, or move forward before they are ready. In many ways, it carries forward what my father taught me: to meet people with kindness, accept them as they are, and help them feel supported through the moments that ask the most of them.

I know my father would understand why this work matters to me, and I believe he is proud of me for having the courage to create it. Grief has taught me that the people we love continue to shape us long after they are gone. My father’s kindness still influences the choices I make. His generosity lives in the way I try to support others, and his belief in me is part of what keeps me moving forward, even when I am uncertain.

I miss him more than I can say, especially today. But I am deeply grateful that I had a father whose love left such a lasting mark on my life. I am proud to be his daughter, and I hope the way I live, love, and serve others continues to honor the man he was.

Happy birthday, Dad. I feel you with me in the work I do, in the way I care for others, and whenever I return to the beach.