The Death of My Father: An Estranged Daughter's Remembrance

 Robert "Boogie" David Napolitano

12/18/47-4/26/2017

My favorite recent picture of my father.

My father had his demons. He had his light and he had his darkness. Like anyone worth remembering and talking about, my father was so damn interesting. He loved to sing and dance so everyone called him Boogie. He was a Golden Glove Champion Boxer and  a founding member of his Doo Wop group, The Embury's, who attracted the attention of the New York Times and have thousands of views on YouTube (my dad sings bass).

I remember hearing a quote once, I think it might have been Barack Obama referencing his own relationship with his father but I can't be sure, it said (paraphrasing a little), 'I was more defined by my father's absence than I was by his presence.'  That always resonated inside of me as I got older and I tried to piece together the enigmatic legend that my father was. Growing up, I knew my mother left my father because of his drug addiction. I also knew that anytime I wrote a poem or a story, my mom would be sure to tell me that I get those abilities from my father...she would tell me I got all the good qualities my father had and I built that up in my mind when I needed to feel connected to the magnitude the DNA code has in the creation of every human being. It made me feel closer to him somehow in the years my brother Michael and I didn't see him or speak with him much.

My father lived in Florida during my childhood and came back to New Jersey when I was around 19 or 20 years old. I would waiver petulantly in my readiness to have a relationship with him when he returned. It has always been difficult for me to let people into my life and I had an even more difficult barrier to get past when it came to my father. He seemed like a familiar stranger that I loved and resented in no particular order. I preferred the legend, the stories passed down from my mother and my father's family. The truth was so much more complicated. I had grown accustomed to my estrangement with my father and did not know how to get what I thought I was looking for in his company.  My inability to be in the present was my greatest shortcoming when it came to my relationship with my dad; I wanted him to be something he wasn't. I was envious of my brother Michael's ability to embrace people as they are and not what he expected them to be. I've realized, as I have gotten older, that the heart of unhappiness is expectations...expectations nurture and fertilize disappointment.

Portrait of my father

After my son was born, I used to bring him around to see my father. Jonas called him PopPop. My brother Michael was living with our dad then and I used to love walking the boardwalks of Ocean Grove with them. It felt like, through Jonas, I was able to achieve the connection with my dad that I always felt lacked in reality. The first time my husband met my father, he was singing with his Doo Wop group, The Embury's in a park in Ocean Grove. I felt ridiculously proud of the amount of people that showed up to see my father sing his signature bass. Still, between visits we didn't talk regularly. I always sent him updated pics of Jonas and our family and my brother used to tell me my father kept our pictures by his TV where he could always see them. My mom used to tell me that my father loved us 'in his own way' and I always struggled with what that meant and the mystery of it haunted me throughout my entire life.

I wasn't at my father's side when he passed. I was in denial, despite my brother informing me, of how grave my father's cancer had become. I anticipated regret but somehow I found acceptance. I realized that in spite of everything and because of everything, that I was still my father's daughter. During the times we spent together (especially after Jonas was born), there was real joy there. This man had planted the seed that would become my life. My beautiful, tormented, complicated, and amazing life. He is a definitive part of me despite all the things we never resolved. I'm so grateful for that now.

I was nervous to attend my father's memorial. After all, I hadn't seen many people from that side of my family in a very long time. I needn't have worried. It was a great celebratory gathering and my father's legendary status has been immortalized through SO MANY awesome stories that described the best of who my father was. He knew everyone. He embodied the very essence of 'the good ol' days' and the aura of nostalgia in the room was not lost on me.

RIP Boogie, you deserve it.