I'm a sad girl. We're a sad family. We lost my godfather today. Robert Belenchia. Uncle Bob. Bo. Boski. He put up one helluva fight against pancreatic cancer.
They really broke the mold when they made this guy. Boy did my parents pick the right godfather (and godmother) for me.
Well, actually, first they picked the right guy for my godmother. When they met Bo, they gave him the thumbs up and the rest is history. Friends for life.
A few things about my godfather:
He could have been a professional singer, but my godmother nixed that. Family came before singing. But boy oh boy could my godfather sing. My father and him would sing anywhere and everywhere they got the chance. My father would set people up, 'hey, my friend Bo is up from NY and he'd like to sing a song. He fancies himself a singer'. Then Bo would get up and belt a tune like there was no tomorrow and he'd bring the house down, every time.
He could dance as well as he could sing.
He was a veteran, teamster, father, son, brother, uncle, friend.
He loved lobster.
Loved lobster bakes.
Enjoyed a beer (or two...trust me he didn't drink all of those himself) or a scotch.
Loved to laugh.
Was the life of the party.
Loved to just sit around the table and talk.
Enjoyed being a grandfather.
Liked to talk to Gar in his version of an Irish accent. Aye laddie. And they liked to solve the world's problems.
Was the best godfather a girl could ever have.
Here's to you Boski. I love you.
I wish I had a video of my godfather singing, but I don't. In his honor, here's a little Jimmy Rosselli. If you're reading by email, click here.