My Father.

My father died when I was 28. In the scope of death readiness, in which we are almost always underprepared, I got an F. I was shell-shocked and disbelieving. He was only 60 years old. Cancer had temporarily taken over part of his body and yet, while he died at the hospital, it was not because of the cancer. Instead, death came knocking in the form of a piece of food that blocked his airway, undetected by medical staff until it was too late. In an instant, having to move from present tense to past tense was just something I was not prepared to know how to do.

But here is the thing. Yes, his life was cut way too short but I had a damn great father for 28 years of my life and, for that, I will be forever grateful. No one can ever take that from me. He had strong values, unwavering integrity, and a commitment to his family like no other. He was smart and kind and had an emotional intelligence that was well ahead of his time.

And he was strong. He had to be. No, not strong in the brute force sense, but the kind of strength that showed up in his constant support, belief, an advocacy for his family. My mom, my sister, and I are no “dying vines” as they say and yet he was the kind of man that would continue to uplift and support our strength to no end.

I find I sometimes stumble on my words when I try to talk or write about my father. I feel that words on paper can’t possibly begin to express my love and admiration for him and therefore such words minimize the “everything” that he was to me.

So, instead, I give you an excerpt from a very special letter written after his death by a wonderful friend and business partner to my father. I cherish this letter because he so wonderfully captured the essence of him in ways that I couldn’t as his daughter. I can only hope that one day I can leave a legacy behind that is as good and kind as the legacy that my dad has left me and my family. I have a long way to go, but I can only hope that I end with a life lived well and right.

A Real Life Hero

The world rarely knows a real hero. They know the icons, their press secretaries and their legions of followers, but they rarely know the real heroes. Real hero’s don’t require fanfare. It just happens to be who they are.

Mort was the real thing; a hero to me. He was a hero because of his values, his integrity, his commitment and dedication, and certainly, his sense of family. His passion and compassion were boundless. He was an exceptional human being.

We were friends for a long, long time. Strange bedfellows indeed. He, the trained attorney, the critical thinker, a senior executive with the uncanny ability to juggle sixteen projects at the same time, and I, the reckless young marketer, full of ideas and not an ounce of discipline. Fate brought us together, and it worked from the beginning.

Mort knew enthusiasm. I think he wrote the book. Despite his corporate training, the energy and vision of an entrepreneur coursed through his veins. He was happiest as a creator. He was a humble and decent man. He never seemed to care if he led the parade, he simply wanted to create it. I called him the Counselor and considered him part of my family. He felt the same. “Brothers” he said. The Counselor was a patient friend. When we started our business together, it was the classic leap of faith. I always wondered if he felt his leap was off a precipice. But we were friends and, if there was any, his trepidation was never conveyed. His smile was omnipresent, his enthusiasm untempered and his support undeniable. Our success was inevitable. He was a remarkable man, and above all, my friend.

Mort’s influence on people and events went far beyond his considerable business acumen. First and foremost he was a family man. Oh, how he loved his family. On more than one occasion, I remember being with him in his office with myriad crisis-like events merging on the moment, when the tension was momentarily shattered by the ring of the telephone. He would take the call with the fury of the moment, seizing the defenseless receiver. But, it was his A. The change was Instantaneous. “Hiiiiii sweetie” he would say. His focus was absolute. The crisis could wait. His patience and love for A and the girls was unbelievable. They were the center of his universe. Everything else could wait. His values were so right. In a selfish world, he was selfless. In a world of greed and self-centeredness, he couldn’t give enough. His family sat on the highest pedestal. His pride and love for them was completely undeniable. It was an inspiration for those who knew him. For those who knew Mort, his sense of values and right and wrong was an unintentional and subtle lesson in how to live your life. Family is first. There is a logical order to the rest of the illogical minutia that fills our lives.

My life is more complete because of my friendship with Mort. My values are more clearly defined. I’m a better human being. I have been blessed to have Mort as my friend, confidante, mentor, and Counselor. Like with everyone that he touched, my life will, forever more, have a void. But the heavens will shine a little bit brighter now that the real hero has arrived.

— written by a dear friend and business partner

So, Happy Father’s Day to my father in heaven, and to all the fathers who have the love, strength, conviction, and confidence to uplift and support the strong women in their lives to pursue lives well lived.