Editor's Note: This article is the eulogy I gave at my Dad, Michael Levegnale's, funeral. He passed away on February 23, 2008 at the nursing home where he resided for a little over three years.

When I was born, my Dad was serving in the Armed Forces overseas during World War II and there was a little blurb in the military newsletter, Stars and Stripes, inquiring who would get home first, Mike or the stork. Well, the stork won out because I was born three months early. He came home on leave and went to the hospital to see me, as the nurse held me up to the window in the palm of her hand.

As I grew, we spent many wonderful moments together. We used to pick pussywillows every spring in the woods near our house. He taught me to ice skate, and roller skate, and I spent many hours skating up and down the sidewalk in our back yard. I especially loved zooming on the downgrade of that sidewalk both on my skates and my scooter, on which I sometimes precariously balanced myself on both feet as I experienced the thrill of that hill, with both my parents watching in the window with bated breath, as they told me later.

A special time was when he put together my two-wheeled bike which was my ninth birthday present. Wow! Now I could ride just like the sighted kids! We lived on a dead-end street, and he would walk beside me as I pedaled with my training wheels at first. We lived on top of a huge hill and he showed me how to brake with the pedals and coast down, but of course, we had to climb up again which I found very difficult. He made me pedal standing up and I made it to the top and back home.

Even though my Dad's education went only as far as the eighth grade, he didn't need books or a slide rule to help me out with science projects at school, and when my parents were showing me how to write my signature, he thought of the idea of using Play Dough to form the letters in an exaggerated fashion so I could have a good sense of their shapes and contours.

He spent many countless hours driving me back and forth to the Oak Hill School for the Blind in Hartford every weekend so that I could get the best education possible at the time, and there were no highways then. After that, there were two more years of driving me to the University of Bridgeport.

He had a special affection for all the children in our lives. At Christmastime, he had special walnuts for them. He slit them open, removed the nut, placed money in them and glued them back together. He loved to see their reactions as they would shake them and then crack them open. Most of them contained coins, but when one of our friends' children shook hers, she didn't hear anything. That's because there was a dollar bill in it. After we moved into our home on New Haven Avenue, we hosted Christmas Eve parties for our family for 22 years. Toward the end of the evening when everyone was about ready to leave, he somehow signaled to Santa Claus, because suddenly, all the kids could swear they heard his sleigh bells ringing and they'd beg their parents to take them home right away.

In the summertime, he took pride in his rather large garden. He grew a lot of vegetables and we had lots of beautiful flowers too. He planted pumpkins, and when they were small, he scratched all my cousins' names and the names of friends' children in them. As the pumpkins became larger, so would their names. He had the patience of Job and spent many hours assembling toys for the children of family and friends.

We had a special bond throughout my life between father and daughter which words could never express. He always provided for me, not only with material things, but with the immaterial things that made him so special. He always encouraged me in my life's choices and was constantly making sure I would have a bright and secure future ahead of me, whether it be financial investments or making sure that I was as self-sufficient as possible and yes, all this happened because of him.

Even when dementia robbed him of many of his mental faculties, he still looked out for me. During his last three years in the nursing home, there was still that spark in him to nurture me, whether telling me to turn right or left, or pour me a cup of coffee when we would sit in the lobby. His personality was always the same, smiling at everyone and no matter what his state of mind was, he always maintained that special quality that was Dad, Mike, Uncle Mike, or Mr. Levegnale, that no one else would ever match or measure up to.

I'll miss you, Dad, but you'll always be with me forever. And by the way, since you hadn't eaten in a week and a half, Mom's welcoming you with open arms and has a huge pan of stuffed peppers waiting for you. It gives me comfort to know that you're at peace now with God and in His care. I was blessed and honored to have you as my father, and may you take comfort in knowing that I'll be just fine, and my life was so much richer with you in it.

(Note - Esther Levegnale was the president of the Waterbury Chapter of the NFB from its inception in 1990 until 1997. Both of her parents were supportive during her tenure, especially with running many successful ziti dinners)

For more information, E-mail us at: info@nfbct.org