My father, Henry Patrick McNeill passed away on August 23rd after a long battle with Parkinson’s. I was fortunate to be able to fly out to Alexandria, Virginia and spend 48 hours at his bedside before his transition. I had a complicated relationship with my father. I loved him but I wouldn’t say we really knew each other. My parents divorced when I was very young and my brother Derek and I would travel to visit our dad once or twice a year. We’d chat on the phone ocasionally, usually small talk and jokes. Without fail when the conversation stalled he’d say, “At any rate” which meant the air was empty. Even though he had a hard time expressing it, I knew he loved Derek and I and when a newspaper clipping or book arrived in the mail it was a reminder we were on his mind. I can thank my father for my love of art, international cuisine, coffee, spontaneous silly song outbursts, and bad jokes. Someone recently told me, “You had the father you needed to become the father you are.” I have learned from all the things he did for me and equally from what he couldn’t provide. 1. 5 years old (1948) 2. 3 1/2 years old 3. Little Pat 4. 12 years young artist 5. Volunteering for The Red Cross in junior high 6. In the photo lab at 16 7. Fraternity photo from Rochester Institute of Technology 8. March 17, 1973 with my mom 9. Derek, Dad and I checking out art in D.C. in June 2016 10. Dad meeting Marea in October 2017 Rest in peace dad, I hope we can connect again and deeper down the line.