Rebecca Ruocco
Dear Dad, On this ninth anniversary of your passing, I want to THANK YOU for the bazillion things that you did for our family. Thank you for devoting 64 years of your life to us all. I will forever remember the hundreds of back yard BBQs and parties, the celebrations of everyone’s birthdays, weddings, pregnancies, anniversaries, accomplishments, military send-offs, and of course, all holidays. It was not uncommon for 20-30 of us to be there at any one of them. Our Christmases were epic. I smile whenever I think of you wrapping your arms around Mom every Christmas, dancing arm-in-arm while you both sang, “Oh by gosh, by golly, it’s time for Mistletoe & Holly!”. All the while wonderful smells of your cooking permeated the beautifully decorated home you both kept pristine. I’ll never forget, when we were little, the utter delight you both took making us six kids laughingly wait in “agony” to see what Santa brought us while you and Mom poured your morning coffee first. We all laughed about it for years. I’ll also never forget the time I came home for Christmas and, without any prior knowledge, you and I both appeared Christmas morning wearing the exact same thing…black pants, white shirts, red vests, and Christmas socks. We had a great laugh. Thank you for taking us camping, boating, & fishing. Dad, the truth is, you and Mom gave all of us a lifetime of jokes, laughter, and fun. Thank you for teaching me to drive, as well as basic car & home maintenance. Thank you for pushing me into going to college and for helping me get my first technical job at the University of Utah Medical Center (where we met for lunch whenever we could). Both of these launched my career in the Navy. I learned my work ethic from both you and Mom, and my life has been immensely better for it. You were our provider, protector, and vice president of all things fun. You and Mom gave all of us some of the best years of our lives. What you sacrificed and accomplished, together with Mom, was nothing short of wonderful. You gave us way more than you ever had. You did more than enough Dad. I also want you to know that the only picture that has survived its place on Mom’s nightstand, in her advanced stage of Alzheimer’s, is a picture of you. You will forever remain in both of our hearts. Rest in peace now Dad. Mom will be with you soon. I love you both.