I had a strange dream Wednesday night—a theological dream.
I don’t have dreams like that often, if ever. But in this dream, the meaning of death, salvation and communion became crystal clear to me. It brought a deep peace of mind.
I don’t remember all the details, but I know why I had that dream: I found out hours later that My father had passed away that same Wednesday night.
That dream gave me the strength to absorb this loss with a sense of peace and acceptance.
My father lived a full life—88 years. He grew up during World War II and experienced things most of us can’t imagine. He told me stories of a German officer questioning him about his father’s whereabouts. He witnessed the devastation of a civil war that took the life of his favourite uncle.
Eventually, he emigrated to the United States, where he met my mother and built a life for our family.
In both business and life, he taught me the power of relationships—treating people with dignity as beings made in the image of a divine creator. He showed me the joy that comes from building long-term relationships.
One of his favourite stories from his childhood involved his own father during the war:
“During the war, a starving man came in from a nearby town, desperate for food. My father gave him the bread and olives he had brought with him to the fields. The man thanked him and revealed that he was a doctor in town. He told my father, ‘If you ever need anything, let me know.’
Years later, I became gravely ill with a fever, and my father feared I wouldn’t survive. He carried me on horseback to that same town and found the doctor. The doctor saved my life. When my father tried to pay him, the doctor refused, saying, ‘Your kindness changed my life when I was weak and starving.’”
I can’t do justice to my father in an email or a LinkedIn post. All I can do is thank him for the life he provided me and for the wisdom and love he shared so freely over the years.
“Blessed are you who mourn, for you shall be comforted.”
How true that is.
Love you, Dad.