I think about my siblings once in a while. I don't know (or care, really) if they think about me. But, on November 19th every year, I know exactly what they're feeling.

Papa died on November 19, 1995, at 1:00 in the afternoon. The three of us were all in the room with him when he passed. I know that they'll think about that all day today, just like I will. They'll remember those last moments.

That was the day we stopped being a family, because Papa was the hub of the wheel.. he was larger than life. He held us all together. Once he was gone, we all spun apart.

But, today, we'll all remember what it was like to be one of his daughters. We'll remember how funny he was. We'll remember how much he loved us.

Tu è il papa migliore nel mondo. Io ti manca. Ti amo.