A Letter to My Father: A Journey Through Memory.
This slideshow was put together by Smadi for Dad’s 70th birthday.
Watching it today, almost four years after his passing and 13.5 years since that milestone celebration, I feel the weight of time.
My eyes well up, not only from the loss but from the flood of memories it brings back — memories of a man who shaped my life in ways I’m still uncovering.
I remember a few vivid moments from my early childhood, snapshots that seem to have been imprinted in my mind forever.
The earliest might be from when I was just learning to run.
I see myself sprinting toward him, arms wide open, waiting for me in our living room in Rehovot.
I remember the joy of helping him paint the house, my tiny hands clumsily wielding a brush, while he crafted simple furniture and painted them in bold, vivid colors.
He was always inviting me into his world, whether it was constructing small figurines from sea shells we collected at the beach or encouraging me to create my own little race track for my toy cars.
There were the days he took me to work at the factory, where I saw him in his element — respected by everyone, from the cleaners to the managers.
He had this unique ability to make everyone feel seen and valued, greeting each person with a smile, always addressing them as Mr. or Mrs.
It felt as though he knew every soul in our (70,000-people) town, and they, in turn, seemed to know and respect him.
I remember when he found his love for cooking.
It was as if the kitchen became his canvas.
He would spend hours, sometimes days, preparing special dishes, putting so much care into every ingredient, every flavor.
His joy was contagious — I can still see his face lighting up when a dish turned out just right.
But there are also memories of missed conversations, especially during my teenage years.
He tried to connect, but I was often too aloof, too wrapped up in my own world.
He never gave up, though. He wrote me long letters in the quiet of the night, letters that I would find when I got home late.
He was trying to bridge the gap I had created, in his own gentle way.
It was Dad who got me that job at the summer camp when I was 17, where I met Sigalit and found a new direction in my life.
And it was Dad again who spotted the ad for the Stef Wertheimer Academy, leading me to Tefen, to Dina, and eventually to Vered — pivotal moments in my life that all began with him.
After he passed, I was haunted by the memories of his final years — his fears and pains while he battled with cancer.
For a while, those were the only memories I could remember.
But over time, those faded, and the happier, gentler moments resurfaced.
The slideshow from his 70th birthday reminds me of the man he truly was — the father who loved me quietly, continuously, even when I couldn’t see it.
This is my chance to remember, to connect, and to say thank you, dad.
For all the paths you set me on, for the silent support, for the love I can still feel now.
Thank you, Dad, for everything.
I love you. Always and forever.
PS. The photos below the slideshow video are from a few months before dad’s passing in December 20, 2020
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