My father, Steven, was a true-blooded New Yorker—born and raised in Brooklyn, NY, and dedicated his life to others. From a young age, he made it his mission to take his family out of the hood and build a respectable life. He met my mom at just 15 years old, and they were together until his last breath. Steven stood on two values: his family and his word. He was a proud steamfitter with Local 638 and helped build some of the most iconic buildings in New York City. He was also the best grandfather to his 'baby Jordan,' and their bond was something truly special. Anyone who met my dad loved him—for his candor, his work ethic, his humor, and most importantly, his huge heart. He was truly one of a kind.
Steven was a die-hard Yankee fan, never missing a game and always cheering for his team with passion. He was the kind of person who would give his last dollar and the shirt off his back to anyone in need. His generosity and kindness touched so many lives, and he always put others before himself.
He was the best father a girl could ask for—full of affection, support, and the ultimate provider. We have some of the best memories because of him.
After the terrorist attacks on 9/11, my father was part of the team that participated in the cleanup. Unbeknownst to us at the time, his selfless actions would result in throat cancer. Although he survived the cancer thanks to radiation treatments, he developed complications, including dysphagia. He was never able to enjoy his retirement in Florida. My father endured a long road of suffering—multiple heart attacks, being in a coma for two months, unable to eat, and being placed on a feeding tube. This past October, he was doing so well that he was able to eat semi-normally again and even made it to New York for the first time since his initial heart attack. We could have never imagined that he would experience such a drastic decline, and on the start of a new year, January 1st, he ended up on life support.
As we try to cope through this unimaginable loss, my mom, my sister and I are now asking for your help and support in laying my father to rest back in New York. He deserves a proper farewell. Any and all donations are genuinely appreciated. Your kindness will help us honor his memory and give him the goodbye he truly deserves.
Daddy, the ultimate legend, you are so missed and loved. May you find peace in heaven since you are no longer suffering.
Steven was a die-hard Yankee fan, never missing a game and always cheering for his team with passion. He was the kind of person who would give his last dollar and the shirt off his back to anyone in need. His generosity and kindness touched so many lives, and he always put others before himself.
He was the best father a girl could ask for—full of affection, support, and the ultimate provider. We have some of the best memories because of him.
After the terrorist attacks on 9/11, my father was part of the team that participated in the cleanup. Unbeknownst to us at the time, his selfless actions would result in throat cancer. Although he survived the cancer thanks to radiation treatments, he developed complications, including dysphagia. He was never able to enjoy his retirement in Florida. My father endured a long road of suffering—multiple heart attacks, being in a coma for two months, unable to eat, and being placed on a feeding tube. This past October, he was doing so well that he was able to eat semi-normally again and even made it to New York for the first time since his initial heart attack. We could have never imagined that he would experience such a drastic decline, and on the start of a new year, January 1st, he ended up on life support.
As we try to cope through this unimaginable loss, my mom, my sister and I are now asking for your help and support in laying my father to rest back in New York. He deserves a proper farewell. Any and all donations are genuinely appreciated. Your kindness will help us honor his memory and give him the goodbye he truly deserves.
Daddy, the ultimate legend, you are so missed and loved. May you find peace in heaven since you are no longer suffering.