Remarks on the Passing of My Father
March 4th, 2012     

A few years ago, I spent some time thinking about my father‘s role in my life, all the way back to childhood, and I realized Pop did many things that (at least I would think) a parent should do,  regardless of how much I grumblingly went along with them at the time. His activities involved a regular experience of nature, with countless long treks through the Wissahickon and Valley Green, and physical fitness, on countless bike rides. He gave me incredible, loving support, something I thought about whenever I heard friends detailing the awful and antagonistic relationship with their fathers. He was indescribably hilarious. Kind, charming, devoted.

Pop had a certain combination of wit, intelligence, capability, and deftness that I’ve seen in very few people and always admired.  Someone to turn to. And beyond that was his humanity: his warm, world-weary, comfortable self.

No one lives forever, although to keep ourselves sane (and actually live our lives) we ignore it.

I’d thought about my father’s health many times. Worried about it. He’d beaten Death on the operating table, took a fall on his bicycle, felt unusually tired after a long car drive. In the back of my mind, ever current, his health seemed to lie unsteadily on his past problems—sometimes these thoughts came to the forefront, and I was overjoyed to see him, knowing how valuable it was—he was strong, hardy, he lived the best life he could. So while I understand how he could be gone too soon, it still felt and feels like a shock: too soon.

Arthur Philip Liebersohn, my father, was a wonderful and memorable man. His voice, his appearance, his personality, all are so vivid to me. He’s gone physically, so the memories of him (and the people touched by him) are what I have left. He was one in a million: I’ll likely never meet anyone like him again, and I’m both grateful and enriched for all the time we had together. The world is poorer without him.