Memories of my Dad
My dad, Dennis Palladino, died today. The pain is still fresh, and the memories are rocketing through my mind faster than I can write in my notebook. But while the reality comes into focus, I wanted to offer some words about him.
The death of a parent is always inevitable; a simple truth of life. But for some kids, our parents seem invincible.
I remember long car rides, some with unexpected accidents, to the beaches of Wildwood, Avalon, and Sea Isle City as a child. I remember a plane ride to Illinois in 2014 to run in the Chicago Marathon with my father. He was 54 at the time, and he had been running with me in other races, like the Philadelphia Marathon and the Marine Corp Marathon, over the previous couple years. When I became interested in running marathons after high school, my dad reminisced about memories running with my Uncle Charles and my grandfather back in the 1970’s. His perseverance to train for a marathon thirty years later was inspirational, and I enjoyed every second of our time together.
I remember the dozens of holidays and birthdays over the years, whether the busy Christmas mornings or birthday dinners. While reminiscing about them, I thought of the countless people that we lost over the years, like my cousin Charles Palladino III, my great Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe, as well as my grandfather. Death will always be a familiar foe, but it will not break our spirit.
I remember telling my dad about my now-husband, Michael Biele, with my anxious mind afraid of his reaction. The reality of his reaction, like most things in life, almost always is different than expected. My stepmom, Beth, and him would later venture north to Glens Falls, New York to be with us in our first apartment as a couple. I remember heading to Home Depot where he helped pick out a ladder to assist us at changing the lightbulbs on the double-tall ceilings.
I remember trips to Florida to experience the magic of Disney World, bravely riding exhilarating roller coasters with my dad at a young age. I remember the excitement of witnessing Hogwarts Castle over the horizon in 2010 with my family at Universal Studios when it was opened. Years later, we were going to race in the 2017 Disney Marathon, though it was ended when I got a knee injury in the summer of 2016. Perhaps sometime in the future, I will complete the marathon that I would have been completed with my dad.
I remember watching the Philadelphia Eagles win their first Superbowl in 58 years back in 2018, and I remember attending the historical parade a week afterward. Standing near the Philadelphia Museum of Art, I distinctly recalled the euphoria of a million fans cheering in the streets. Near the iconic steps of the museum, I remember pulling out my phone for a selfie to commemorate the event. Seven years later, the team would do it again, though for our family, it was missing my grandfather who had just passed away during that momentous season in 2024.
Those iconic Philadelphia Museum of Art steps reminded me of my father’s favorite movies involving Rocky Balboa. Starring Sylvester Stallone, the underdog, fictional boxer inspired six films and three spinoff movies. The undying spirit of Rocky was emblematic not only of Philadelphia but my dad. His positive spirit was infectious, along with his humorous “dad jokes” as my siblings and I grew up.
His admiration for comedy began with his affinity for Mel Brook’s comedies like Blazing Saddles as well as Larry Gelbart’s M*A*S*H series. Decades later, he would still watch and laugh along with my siblings and I. A year after I moved to Glens Falls, New York, a local obstacle course featured one of the humorous scenes from Blazing Saddles involving a “shit ton of nickels” to cross a tiny toll in desert road.
Along with football, I remember playing hooky in high school to attend the Philadelphia Phillies World Series parade along Broad Street. It had been 28 years since they won the baseball championship, and as the iconic phrase uttered by Chase Utley in 2008 on live television said, the Phillies were “world f*cking champions”. I remember attending hundreds of baseball games in Citizen’s Bank Park, and my siblings and I will cherish those memories. It reminded me of my father-in-law, Arthur Biele, who brought my husband, Michael, and his siblings to New York Yankees games over the years before his passing.
At 65, he lived a full life. Growing up with seven siblings, it must have tough to find his voice amidst everyone. He became an expert in tax matters in the family over the years, earning a master’s degree while he was raising three children. Over the years, my dad became a trusted certified public accountant, not only for our family but hundreds of clients. Between February and April, he completed thousands of tax returns over the years.
While my dad won’t be here on Earth anymore, his spirit will continue to live on. Whether watching animals roam in the mountains or touchdowns scored by the Philadelphia Eagles, my siblings, mother, stepmother, and I will always be reminded of his laughter, smile, and words of wisdom over the years.
In honor of my father, I would love to acknowledge a quote from Rocky that exemplifies the timeless words that my dad ensured my siblings and I remember. In the sixth Rocky movie, Silvester Stallone says to his son,
“Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain’t all sunshine and rainbows. It’s a very mean and nasty place and I don’t care how tough you are, it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.
You, me, or nobody hits is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain’t about how hard you hit, it’s about how hard you get hit and keep movin’ forward. How much you can take, and keep movin’ forward. That’s how winning is done!
Now, if you know what you’re worth, go out and get what you’re worth – but you gotta be willing to take the hits. And not pointin’ fingers sayin’ you ain’t where you want to be because of him or her or anybody. Cowards do that and that ain’t you! You’re better than that.
I’m always going to love you no matter what. No matter what happens. You’re my son and you’re my blood. You’re the best thing in my life. But until you start believing in yourself, you ain’t gonna have a life.”
Those words hit hard now. But I am incredibly happy that my dad has seen my life change in remarkable ways over the past year. After a mental health crisis in 2024, he helped me find financial stability. He followed my first steps of becoming a freelance writer and a political candidate for local councilman. My dad, along with my mom and husband, were at my first inauguration in January as I stepped into a role that I never would have dreamed.
As our family begins organizing a funeral service for my father, I want to step back and say goodbye dad. While it is much sooner than all of us would have wanted, I will always remember you and make you proud. I love you, dad!
While the reality comes into focus, I’m sure there are many other people with memories.
During funeral gatherings, it is custom to reflect with family and friends on the decades of memories. My father brought so much joy to the world over his lifetime that I want those memories to find a home where anyone can revisit.
This small corner of the web will transform over the years with not only our family memories but everyone that knew him. If you have a memory, please send it using the form below or a text message. You can note if you want it private or shared publicly, of course.
Thanks for keeping the memory of my father alive!
