My father, Ilusha Turcihin, died October 16. It was sudden and completely unexpected. I am sure you know my father. He rode his bicycle every day, back and forth the length of the Island. In the summer, he would be seen riding his bike, wearing his favorite sweater, even if it was unbearably hot. Every day he would enjoy this beautiful Island that we all share. He loved to stop, admire the trees and talk to so many people in this community. In fact, the day before he went to the hospital, he took his customary ride and, that Tuesday, I was told by so many Islanders that they saw him, talked to him, waved hello to him. He took the Tram, picked up his favorite fish for dinner, and returned home, seeing so many Islanders on his way. On that same day, he completed his paintings that he worked so hard to finish with the right strokes and colors. He told my mother, "I'm done. The paintings are good." It was almost like he was saying his farewells to us.

He was born October 9, 1927, of Russian parents in Turkey. He had a wonderful childhood, being spoiled by his parents and sister. He met my mother on a blind date and their marriage of 45 years was truly extraordinary. My father's career in the travel industry, which spanned over 45 years, as a sales manager for El Al Israel Airlines and KLM Royal Dutch Airlines, allowed him the opportunity for extensive travel. My father's knowledge of the airline business also provided him with an Adjuct Professorship at New York University, which he loved.

As so many of you know, my father was a great conversationalist. He would ask, "Where are you from?" and the conversation would spiral into customs, beauty, and language of that particular country. My father was a true humanist. He loved the diversity of people, language, and customs. He spoke many languages - Russian, Turkish, French, Italian, Greek, and English. He spent many hours collecting stamps and taking care of the roses he grew on his terrace. After his retirement and the loss of my sister, my father struggled with depression. He eventually picked up his paintbrush and canvas again, after 30 years, and found joy in his life once more. He became a member of the Roosevelt Island Visual Art Association (RIVAA) and painted beautifully with love and creativity. I am so proud of him. And now he leaves us with his brushstrokes that I so longingly look at with amazement. He was a special man, sweet and kind, full of vitality, and a loving grandfather to my two children. He spent many days with my children, taking care of them as only a grandfather can. With love and patience, he taught them all the good things the world can offer. My mother, my children, my husband, and I miss him so very much.

Yesterday morning, I heard birds chirping so loudly on my apartment ledge. These birds were trying to get my attention. So I slowly moved to the window to see what all the commotion was about. The two small blackbirds were staring right at me, chirping with musical ease. I imagine that these two birds came to give me a message that my father and sister are together and quite fine. My father would receive this kind of visit on his terrace from a bird that he believed was bringing messages from my sister.

My family and I want to thank the tremendous Roosevelt Island community for their love and support through this time. Rivercross and Roosevelt Island have been our home since 1977. My father was right in choosing this beautiful Island as our home.

Olya Turcihin-Stern