On August 31, 2017, I lost my hero- my grandfather, my Poppy. He fought a hard eight-month battle to a rare, incurable cancer. Thankfully, I was able to see him as much as I possibly could throughout his fight, and he was ecstatic with every visit and phone call.

Even after all the doctor's appointments, blood tests, hospital visits and difficult days, Poppy was the happiest person you'd ever meet. My Poppy was not only the most humble man you would ever be fortunate enough to come in contact with but the most optimistic and so naturally funny. He had the kindest, most compassionate heart, and he was incredibly selfless, a trait I adored most about him. Even on his last days, we'd talk and laugh about his childhood years, his experiences, and all the great times my brothers and I spent at their home down the shore.

Poppy was one hell of a man. A Korean War Veteran, a survivor of prostate cancer, colon cancer, and a quadruple bypass, Poppy was a fighter. He loved his country and lived for his family. He was born in Little Italy, Manhattan, during the Great Depression, and began working at the very young age of eight years old to help his family. After school, my Poppy would set up his shoe shine box, and men would line up for blocks for one of his "shines."

By the time my Poppy was 12, he was already on to his second job. A dedicated worker, he would set up his "pushcart" of fresh fruit and vegetables on weekends and help the neighborhood ladies make their selections. (He was the best at picking the perfect eggplant). At the age of 15, Poppy began working in a chicken market, his job, to catch the chicken requested by the customer, and kill it by snapping its neck, then sending it down to the butcher for preparation to sell. For this reason, he rarely ate chicken.

After graduating high school, Poppy began working for a steamship company, an industry he would spend the next 60 years dedicated to. He was devoted to his company and those he worked with. He was nicknamed "Cuz," a name everyone in the industry referred to him by. However, in 1951, Poppy was drafted into the Army, Infantry Division, and sent overseas for over two years. He was a Corporal and so proud to serve his country. He was a great storyteller and told us of his many adventures while overseas. Once he returned home, he enrolled in Maritime College and returned to the industry he so loved. He loved life and everything it had to offer, especially my Grandma, his wife of 61 years. He was certainly one of a kind, and everyone who knew him would agree. He became a father-like figure to everyone, co-workers, family friends, but most importantly, to me. He was my second father. Poppy influenced me in ways that no other person could. He not only taught me the value of family but how to appreciate life, despite the hardships and uncertainty.

Not only was Poppy genuine, but the best darn cook around. When I would open the front door to their home I would immediately smell the aroma of meatballs, sweet Italian sausage, marinara sauce, and focaccia. Dinner at my Grandparents was always a feast. Poppy would always say, "Tori, did you eat enough?" "Here, have another piece of focaccia." And so I did because the last thing I wanted to do was turn down or disappoint my Poppy.

Poppy wasn't only the best cook I'd come to admire, but he was an impeccable dresser. I'll never forget the time at my older brother, Matthew's, eighth-grade graduation, Poppy was dressed to the nines. He wore a sharp suit with these beautiful black and white tuxedo shoes. For months, he spoke of these "beauties" he yearned to wear for that special occasion, and Matthew's graduation was the day. As my family and I walked through the parking lot toward the building we could hear a flopping noise. We turned around to see Poppy dragging his leg, initially thinking he was hurt. No, far from that. His expensive, brand new tuxedo shoes he loved, were defective, specifically, the sole detached from the shoe. We all broke out into laughter. This story remained a classic.

While I know he is in a better place, my heart still aches. I'm blessed to have grown up with such a remarkable man like my Poppy. On beautiful days he would sit in the backyard, admiring nature and write poetry. So Poppy here's a few lines of the poem I wrote for you!

"I'll always remember your infectious smile. For your family and friends, you always went the extra mile.

Guide me in the good times and bad, You are forever my Granddad"

Poppy, I hope to make you proud of all my accomplishments as a Rider Bronc, a daughter, sister, friend and future educator. I love you unconditionally and miss you with all my heart. Keep smiling Poppy.

Rest In Paradise.

Love Always,

Tori