At precisely this time 1 year ago today I was arriving at Montgomery Hospital in Norristown, in the middle of a blizzard, after receiving news that my father had a heart attack. He was gone by the time my sister and I arrived. We were shocked, horrified, and mostly stunned. The evening seemed like a mini viewing, as word spread, and his family, friends and colleagues streamed through the emergency rooms for hours. We stayed at the hospital for 4-5 hours before heading back out into the storm. I was exhausted and completely numb.
Well over a foot of snow had fallen by the time I dropped my sister off at her house around 5 or 6 AM. I can remember the helpless feeling I had at the moment she hopped out of the car and headed up her driveway. What would I do with myself now? The 1/2 of a mile drive home is a blur, but what I remember most is parking my car down the street from my house, getting out of the car and standing in the middle of the street watching the snow flakes fall. It was a magnificent snow that night. I stood there for a long time wondering how the world could appear so beautiful on such an ugly night.
I was numb when I went inside and proceeded to send mindless text messages out to friends and family. I knew I wouldn’t sleep. Earlier that week I had purchased a bottle of Port, so I opened it that morning (still night to me, don’t judge.) I honestly have no recollection of the rest of that day, but I do know that I had a glass each night for the next few nights. At some point I realized that I needed to put the remainder away for safe keeping, after all, it was the wine I was drinking the night my father died.
I tucked the bottle in the liquor cabinet and didn’t pull it out again until tonight. I poured only a sip and put the bottle back for next year. And so tonight, I toast my father. I didn’t expect the emotion that accompanied this toast, but I think with the passing of a year, it is finally sinking in; he will never return.
He is a man who requires no qualifications from me of what he has meant to so many. His accomplishments are beyond imagination. Anyone who knew him knows that. Those who attended the nearly monthly tributes this year by one organization or another that was touched by his generosity and good will, already understands how he was appreciated. To all of you who have honored him, spoken of him, and continue to remember him, I thank you.
My father made wine. Dad’s closest friends reading this may wonder, “why wouldn’t John’s daughter toast him with his own wine?” While I loved his limoncello, I was never a huge fan of Dad’s wines. This is a fact he realized, and I know hurt his feelings. I never told him that I didn’t care for his wines, but when he arrived with 4 bottles in hand, I always had an excuse such as, “Oh is that a Cabernet? I’m already drinking Pinot Noir.” These harsh memories make me cringe now. I had some of his wines that I thought were alright and others which I didn’t care for at all. I wish I had the opportunity to consume every glass he offered now, because it meant so much to him. His friends tell tales of the “good times” had by all while making wine with dad or visiting his wine cellar. He was happiest there, put down all barriers and was simply himself.
There are no re-dos in life. I cannot drink my father’s wine tonight, because there is very little wine left. There were 125 gallons of wine remaining after dad passed, but it was all poured down the drain. I have only a few bottles in my possession. I want to hold onto the few I have left to celebrate his life over the many years to come. I drank one bottle since he died. It was surprisingly good. I guess we just never appreciate what we have, until it is gone.
Sheriff John P. Durante 1949-2010
As I said, there are no re-dos. I cannot go back and change anything, but I can move forward. My father’s memory lives on in all of us, and hopefully soon they will break ground on the greatest memorial of all for my father, a building in his honor. Many know of the hard work he invested in making tremendous changes at Plymouth Ambulance, where he worked as a teen and was on the board as President when he died. Funds are being raised to build a new structure; The John P. Durante Building, to enable ambulances to arrive more quickly at emergency scenes. He would be so proud.
Instructions were provided by my step-mother here in his obituary for donations to support the construction of this new facility.
We all love you and miss you, Dad.




Freshly Charred Peppers
Pepper over Flame
Another Angle of Pepper Cooking
Peppers Cooling
Roasted Peppers