My grandfather, the day before he died, had an experience he could only express to my grandmother with words to the effect of “if death is anything like this, then it will be wonderful”. She passed away recently – I think of her often, and I think of her recounting those words in her persistent German accent when she still was.
My father was a magic person. He was a magician too – this is a photo of him performing as a young man, but that wasn't what made him magic. He had a magnetism and tenacity that enraptured those who knew him.
He took delight and fascination in most people, no matter how brief his encounter with them. He taught me that people and places could be truly magical – a gift that I cherish every day. You can meet certain people or be somewhere at a certain moment, and you feel like you just saw a magic trick. He introduced me to a lot of people who made me feel this way and he was one of them himself.
Dad knew plenty of spectacular illusions, but the one that blew me away was how he made the people he met laugh and feel welcome. It was his best trick, and the only one I ever endeavoured to learn – although it'll be a long time before I'm a patch on my old man. I miss him so bloody much. I'll never stop falling in love with the magic he saw in the world and its people.
