When I moved out of my house, I was about 22 years old. I was in banking at the time, making pretty decent money. I bought a home a town away from my father, in the same neighborhood as my step-mother and brother. Cute, it was a little beach house for my soon to be wife and I (now ex-wife and if I haven’t said so before, an incredible human being).

Every week or so, my father would say to me… “Come over, I miss ya.” We’d spend the afternoon together, maybe have a bite to eat, and then the minute I left, he would say “When am I gonna see ya?”

When am I gonna see ya? I just left you! I was frustrated because pops had a pretty similar routine, most days. I’d sit on his couch and watch whatever TV he’d turn on (usually golf, I hate golf…) while he did laundry. Up and down the stairs he’d go, doing his laundry. I wondered if he cared if I was in the house, or not.

Years went by and a lot of the times we spent together were like this. I started Bold Media and other ventures. I started working round the clock at my day job as well, when my addiction to work became one of the many things that ultimately ruined my marriage. I became addicted to being productive, an affliction we all sometimes suffer from. And, within reason, I also had my own chores to do. I had a beautiful wife, at one point, and at other times amazing significant others’ who I wanted to spend time with, build our home, etc. But, week after week, month after month, I’d try as hard as I could to get to my dad’s house and watch him do laundry… clean the kitchen, sit in silence as we watched golf. And, I always complained to myself when I left that that was all we did some days.

PLEASE don’t get me wrong. Pops and I did a lot more: we saw Broadway shows, went to dinners, talked about everything and anything. I asked my father for advice way more than anyone else in my life and still do. Sometimes we’d sit in the backyard with drinks and cigars. Sometimes we’d go for drives to see my mother’s grave. We’d spend holidays together. We did ALOT. He’d cook for me, take me to get sushi, take me to the country club for meals, etc. Nobody did more for me than my father (and my step-mother, as well- let’s not exclude her, separately, as they were divorced about 15 years ago). And, they continue to do it without hesitation.

But, a lasting memory was definitely the way he did some of that laundry every time we had nothing to do and I was over. I moved to Westchester and New York City as well as the North Shore of Long Island. So, sometimes my time with pops was limited. We didn’t have the hours and hours to spend just “chilling out” at his house. When I wasn’t sitting on his couch for a few hours, I always felt like something was missing.

Finally, after some moves around NYC, I left home a few months ago to move to Las Vegas, NV from my home on Long Island. I remember thinking to myself “You know, this will just mean that my time with Pops will be more exciting. We can spend it really getting stuff done!”

In the past few months, I’ve gotten a new job. I’ve named an Editor-in-Chief at Bold Magazine so that I can focus on other projects like my book, podcast, etc. I’m looking into buying some real estate. I purchased a company that I have dreamt about owning for a long time. I am constantly on and off the strip, out for shows, on dates, with my new friends, throwing parties.

But, just a few weeks ago, Pops gave me the opportunity to come home for the holidays. We sat in silence for a lot of the weekend, watching tv on his couch. Sure, there were dinners and conversations and drives and all sorts of excitement. But, you know what…? The thing I thought I’d never want to do again was the thing I missed the most. I’d trade any of what I do here in Las Vegas…

for a day…

of watching my father do some laundry.

There was no question that he knew I was in the room. There was no question that he cared that I was sitting there. And, in those moments, alone with pops, sitting around the TV, just muttering a few words here and there to each other, it all became clear: for the past 13 years, it didn’t matter what we did. It didn’t matter if we spoke. We had the opportunity to share space where many others do not.

Pops… laundry… and a couch with some TV. I never thought I’d wish for that over a night on the town in Las Vegas… I guess we all have lessons to learn just a day too late, huh?