CAUGHT somewhere in time.
Hey Dad,
So, time's this cheeky thief, huh? Sneaking around, pocketing our moments like they're spare change. But then, it turns around and plays this sentimental hoarder, stashing those same moments in the attic of our memories. And you, Dad, you've gone and left us with something as timeless as that "Somewhere in Time" movie you couldn't shut up about.
That story, along with its literary buddy "Bid Time Return," somehow punches right through time's concrete walls with nothing but the power of love. The title itself feels like us yelling at time to put on the brakes, begging for just one more minute with you.
And that soundtrack you adored? It's on eternal repeat in our lives, a constant nod to your cinematic romance and your knack for finding beauty in the blink-and-you'll-miss-it moments.
It's weird, but it's like you're still here, maybe cracking up at how we're a mess without you, or slipping in some life advice between the lines of our favorite flicks.
And Newport Beach in the '80s? Man, you didn't just spin tales; you had us living them right there with you—belly laughing, deep-diving into those cultural throw-downs, and getting lost in the sheer magic of a needle dropping on vinyl.
Those days in Newport, they're as vivid as ever, like we're still there, soaking up every bit of that thrill, the tunes, and the escapades with you. It wasn't just your stories; it was our epic saga, loaded with your laughter, your sage wisdom, and the pure joy of being together in an era that felt like it was ours and ours alone.
And let's not even start on those legendary Bacon & Bleu burgers at Muldoon's or the nights we conquered Hard Rock, leaving with bellies full, heads buzzing with tunes, and arms heavier with swag than our hearts were with impending goodbyes.
Deep down, Pau and I know you're out there, somewhere in time, perched with that classic Newport view in front of you, a Heineken in one hand and a Tequila shot in the other, just waiting for us to 'come back to you'.
It's like you've paused in the perfect frame of the '80s Newport—where every moment was a mix of raw innocence and wild adventures, John Barry’s soundtrack playing in the background.
This slice of time, so distinctly you, calls to us, a beacon through the years, inviting us to return, to relive the vibrancy of those days with you, to stand beside you once more against the ever-marching tide of time.
This whole time-travel wish of ours, craving to rewind to a moment drenched in your essence, it's fueled by that soundtrack you loved so much. Those melodies are like invisible lifelines, tethering us to you through the decades.
Your passion for that tale, for a love that knows no expiry date, and the score that gave it wings, it's etched into us. You showed us that the ties that bind us, the love that weaves through our lives, it doesn't play by time's rules. It's as eternal as the tide, as boundless as the horizon where Newport's sea kisses the sky in an endless embrace.
So, in those quiet moments when we whisper to the void, "Come back to us, Dad," it's more than just missing you. It's a testament to your undying presence in our lives. In those instants, as time's boundaries blur, allowing us to bask in your laughter and share in your tears as if you are still there, caught somewhere in time, we understand:
You never really left, did you?
Like that pocket watch scene in the movie, your memories are our portal to you, beckoning us to go back somewhere in time, to relive those cherished moments with you, reminding us that in the realms of love and memory, time is nothing but a construct.
My sister and me?
We’re OK. We’re trying. We’re trying to be better. Better siblings, better parents, better sons and daughters, better people.
It’s the least we can do.
We’ll catch you on the flip side, somewhere in Newport…Somewhere in Time.
“The man in my dreams has almost faded now. The one I have crafted in my heart. I can almost see him now before me…”
We miss you more than words, Dad.