My dad passed away.

We were blessed to get a very long goodbye. He had the privilege to go out in a way I wish for everyone - surrounded by friends and family, leaving no stone unturned. The man told jokes until the very end. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life and it will forever bring me happiness. 

The night before he died I told my wife that not only do I love him with my whole heart and then some, but I really like my dad, too. I feel lucky to say that. He was one of the funniest people I have ever known. He was brilliant, resilient, exceptional, a joy to be around, and filled to the brim with love. 

This was a tumultuously emotional adventure for him. On his final day he proclaimed: 

"At this moment I don’t feel sad.” 

"Then what do you feel, dad?” 

“Horny!” 

That was Harvey.

One night this past week I wrote down some of the most important things I learned from him. I will uncover more over the years I’m sure, but this is what was top of mind: 

When you are staring at a closet full of shirts, always pick the most colorful and patterned one. Life’s too short to be dull. Starting in his 60s, my dad's fashion sense blossomed. At first I was almost embarrassed by it. But it brought him such pride, and over time I came to absolutely love it. The man had style, and he was fearless about it. If it makes you happy, just do it.

Pursue your interests and passions unapologetically. A joy for stacking sticks and stones may one day lead you to a beautiful sculpture garden and happiness. My parents bought a lake house in upstate NY over a decade ago. There, my dad started a hobby of balancing pieces of wood and rocks. He'd spend full days outside stacking, and over time, these became freestanding sculptures that decorated their entire property. It is incredible and brought him great pride. His friends are making a book of his work. He had a pair of gloves he wore to do his work. He wore holes through them everywhere and patched them together with duct tape. May we all be so lucky to burn holes in our gloves and care about something enough to duct tape it so it lasts.

Don’t be afraid to pioneer uncharted waters and do what others won’t, especially when it means you can help people. My dad has saved countless lives because he did things unconventionally. He is a legend in the field of cardiology and helped to bring CT and CTA scans for heart disease mainstream. For years, his ideas were believed to be radical by the establishment. He was laughed at and antagonized by many. But he knew deep in his gut and in his marvelous brain that he was right and he persevered. Every cardiologist that I talk to worth their salt knows his name because he was as bold as they come. Because of him and some of his peers, you don't have to die of heart disease.

Even when life feels downtrodden, this too shall pass. Don’t jump on the tracks, just wait to board the next train because there’s always hope and love and happiness ahead. When I was in high school my dad spiraled into a bout of severe clinical depression, and he was very open about his experience with it. He shared with me that there were moments where he was suicidal and wondered if he should jump in front of the subway. But he sought help and he was extraordinarily resilient. He fought that battle and won, and without a doubt the best years of his life came thereafter. I think he liked to talk about this because not only was he proud of overcoming it, but he wanted people to know that there can be light ahead. That if he could do it, so could you.

Marry up. My dad would always say that he wasn't the "best person" or a very emotionally attuned guy for a chunk of his life, but that over time he became a better person. His only explanation for his progress was that my mom brought out the best in him. He was right. She put all of herself into their relationship and loved and cared for him infinitely. Through the very end, she made him a better person with each passing day. He was the best of him. I took his advice and I married up, too.

At the end of the day, family and meaningful relationships are everything. Nothing else matters. In these final months, I never once heard him talk about possessions, his professional accomplishments, or even the lives he saved. The only thing he cared to talk about were the people he loved and cherished. He emphatically pronounced this the day before he died: family and friends are everything. We all know this - it’s the cliche we always hear. But sometimes we don’t understand it until we see it. I saw it and it’s real. And that’s how I plan to honor his legacy, and I hope you do the same: by building a life filled with meaningful relationships and family. 

And last but not least, during trying times it’s okay to feel sad. And like my dad at the end, it’s also okay to be at peace and not feel sad. Just don’t forget to be horny.

I love you dad and miss you terribly. But I know for certain you will always be with me.

My dad passed away.

We were blessed to get a very long goodbye. He had the privilege to go out in a way I wish for everyone - surrounded by friends and family, leaving no stone unturned. The man told jokes until the very end. It was one of the most beautiful experiences of my life and it will forever bring me happiness. 

The night before he died I told my wife that not only do I love him with my whole heart and then some, but I really like my dad, too. I feel lucky to say that. He was one of the funniest people I have ever known. He was brilliant, resilient, exceptional, a joy to be around, and filled to the brim with love. 

This was a tumultuously emotional adventure for him. On his final day he proclaimed: 

"At this moment I don’t feel sad.” 

"Then what do you feel, dad?” 

“Horny!” 

That was Harvey.

One night this past week I wrote down some of the most important things I learned from him. I will uncover more over the years I’m sure, but this is what was top of mind: 

When you are staring at a closet full of shirts, always pick the most colorful and patterned one. Life’s too short to be dull. Starting in his 60s, my dad's fashion sense blossomed. At first I was almost embarrassed by it. But it brought him such pride, and over time I came to absolutely love it. The man had style, and he was fearless about it. If it makes you happy, just do it.

Pursue your interests and passions unapologetically. A joy for stacking sticks and stones may one day lead you to a beautiful sculpture garden and happiness. My parents bought a lake house in upstate NY over a decade ago. There, my dad started a hobby of balancing pieces of wood and rocks. He'd spend full days outside stacking, and over time, these became freestanding sculptures that decorated their entire property. It is incredible and brought him great pride. His friends are making a book of his work. He had a pair of gloves he wore to do his work. He wore holes through them everywhere and patched them together with duct tape. May we all be so lucky to burn holes in our gloves and care about something enough to duct tape it so it lasts.

Don’t be afraid to pioneer uncharted waters and do what others won’t, especially when it means you can help people. My dad has saved countless lives because he did things unconventionally. He is a legend in the field of cardiology and helped to bring CT and CTA scans for heart disease mainstream. For years, his ideas were believed to be radical by the establishment. He was laughed at and antagonized by many. But he knew deep in his gut and in his marvelous brain that he was right and he persevered. Every cardiologist that I talk to worth their salt knows his name because he was as bold as they come. Because of him and some of his peers, you don't have to die of heart disease.

Even when life feels downtrodden, this too shall pass. Don’t jump on the tracks, just wait to board the next train because there’s always hope and love and happiness ahead. When I was in high school my dad spiraled into a bout of severe clinical depression, and he was very open about his experience with it. He shared with me that there were moments where he was suicidal and wondered if he should jump in front of the subway. But he sought help and he was extraordinarily resilient. He fought that battle and won, and without a doubt the best years of his life came thereafter. I think he liked to talk about this because not only was he proud of overcoming it, but he wanted people to know that there can be light ahead. That if he could do it, so could you.

Marry up. My dad would always say that he wasn't the "best person" or a very emotionally attuned guy for a chunk of his life, but that over time he became a better person. His only explanation for his progress was that my mom brought out the best in him. He was right. She put all of herself into their relationship and loved and cared for him infinitely. Through the very end, she made him a better person with each passing day. He was the best of him. I took his advice and I married up, too.

At the end of the day, family and meaningful relationships are everything. Nothing else matters. In these final months, I never once heard him talk about possessions, his professional accomplishments, or even the lives he saved. The only thing he cared to talk about were the people he loved and cherished. He emphatically pronounced this the day before he died: family and friends are everything. We all know this - it’s the cliche we always hear. But sometimes we don’t understand it until we see it. I saw it and it’s real. And that’s how I plan to honor his legacy, and I hope you do the same: by building a life filled with meaningful relationships and family. 

And last but not least, during trying times it’s okay to feel sad. And like my dad at the end, it’s also okay to be at peace and not feel sad. Just don’t forget to be horny.

I love you dad and miss you terribly. But I know for certain you will always be with me.