Sedona, AZ — Hey Papi!
How’s it going up there in heaven? It’s Father’s Day here on Earth, and I’m thinking of you—missing you—now that I’m one year older than you were when you passed away.
I just want to say thank you for everything you taught me. Thank you for taking such good care of me. And our family. Thank you for helping me walk when I couldn’t walk. Thank you for making me strong against all adversity. Thank you for teaching me how to look behind the scenes and see what’s not being shown.
I’ll never forget the time you taught me that lesson about perception. You stood me in front of a mirror and said, “Tommy, what do you see?” And I kept saying, “Myself.”
You kept correcting me until I realized I wasn’t seeing myself—I was seeing a reflection of myself. And then you said, “Yes. That’s it. It’s a reflection of you—not you. And that’s how words work. Words are not the thing itself—they are reflections of things.”
Here I am now, not too far from heaven’s door myself, hoping that maybe what they say is true—that there is an afterlife, a place we go to, where we meet the loved-ones we once knew, and where everything is balanced and peace reigns.
Not like here on Earth. That’s for sure.
I’ll never forget the way you played the guitar. The way you wrote songs. The poetry that you wrote. The way you charmed everyone—always sweet, and kind in every single way.
When I was growing up, you taught me how to box— never thinking I would one day end up in ring!
I remember the way you could cook—my God, you had such a knack for it. And don’t forget what a great tailor you were. A master tailor. I’ll always remember the day you taught that class at the City University here in Arizona, how all the would-be tailors gathered around you to learn your masterful techniques.
Did I mention you were n accomplished photographer and a devoted Yankee fan and that you love baseball so much that you organized your own baseball team?
So here we are. Another year passes. Another year closer to next life I get. I think of you every day. Strong, you were. Honest and true. Like a comic book hero, always fighting for the good and teaching us not to forget what matters.
And then there were all the great philosophical conversation we would have, just the two of us or with my friends. You got us all thinking about things we never learned in school.
When the Beatles came out, every kid in our building—2160 Seward Avenue, every kid wanted to learn how to play guitar. But you were already an accomplished guitarist. And what was the first song you taught us? “Do You Want to Know a Secret?” by the Beatles. You were always there to teach us, and that was such a gift.
So again, thank you, Papi. On this Father’s Day, I’m loving you. I’m thanking you. I only wish you were still here to meet my beautiful wife Joey—she’s the best. You would have loved her. I love you, and I hope you’re all celebrating up there.
I called it rock ’n’ roll heaven, but maybe it’s just heaven in any form. And I hope I’ve been a good son.
You grew up in a little town in Puerto Rico, where you learned your tailoring skills. You came to the U.S. to build a new life. You worked in a factory and made custom suits for those who could afford them. You played in your own band with your friends. You worked your way through college here in the States, graduated with honors, and excelled as a student.
I remember how you were always giving me vocabulary tests from Reader’s Digest and correcting me if I didn’t speak properly. You encouraged me to be a good writer.
Eventually, you became the manager of the Brooks Brothers factory. I also forgot to mention—you were a meta physicist. You prepared me for my life here in the metaphysical center of the world, Sedona!
Thank you! Thank you! Thank you.
Happy Father’s Day, Papi (aka Thomas Cruz Acosta) . I love you forever.
Your loving son, Tommy