Big Nicky D.

I haven’t blogged in quite a while. I took some time off from writing because it has been a rough year for me and my family. My dad fell ill in January and never bounced back. He died on July 4, 2025, after a long and difficult struggle. I can honestly say he was my best pal, I loved him more than anyone in the world, and I miss him every day. This post is in his honor.

My dad was a good man. He worked hard. He took care of his family. He taught me how to survive in this world, a place he’d learned from experience could be cruel at times and hard on poor people and middleclass Americans. He died with a lot more than he was given and then turned around and gave it all back to his family in the end.

He wouldn’t want me to belabor the point. Instead, he’d want me to keep him close to my heart every day and do my best to live the way he did, always trying to help others, putting his family first, and loving all those near and dear to him. I’ll do my best, but he’s a tough act to follow.

My dad was a fireman, carpenter, bricklayer, and working man’s philosopher. He was a devoted husband to my mom for 67 years. He was humble, particular, knew how to handle money, and was a good artist when he chose to be. I was proud of all he accomplished in life, and he was proud of me, too. The last thing he said to me was, “I love you, Nick.” The last thing I said to him was, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Pops.” I think he won that one.

My dad would be the first person to complain if I left it at that. He’d want me to post some good news about myself and not make it all about him, so I’ll share what little I’ve got. Although I haven’t written much this year, two of my short stories have appeared online:

• The Fabulist published my flash fiction story “Heartless” back in March.
• Bourbon Penn published “Faces” in Issue #37 this October, just a day or two ago as I write this. I love the cover, by the way, which I’ve copied here:

Finally, I promised my dad I’d keep writing. He would have wanted that. He knew how important writing was and is to me. So, in his honor, here’s to you, Pops. These words and however many more I have left in me.