Repository, The (Canton, OH)

Estimated printed pages: 6

June 15, 2008

Section: Local News

Single father wants to be the best dad he can be

TIM BOTOS

REPOSITORY STAFF WRITER

JACKSON TWP. Back elbow cocked high, as his father had reminded him,
Mario Passerini swung the aluminum bat at the incoming pitch. With an
echoing "ping" sound, the 7-year-old connected, sending the baseball
rolling toward shortstop. A gaggle of tiny Cubs players converged on the
ball.
It was too late, though.

Mario's helmet wobbled back and forth on his cropped blond hair, as he
streaked toward first base. He hopped safely onto the bag. Proud father,
Dan Passerini, an assistant coach for his son's Diamondbacks team,
gazed out and caught Mario's eyes. Father flashed his son a thumbs-up
sign.

Today, of course, is the official Father's Day.

However, that day last week on a youth field at Lake Cable Elementary
School also was Father's Day, in a sense, for Dan Passerini. It was Father's
Day the weekend before too. He beamed during his 5-year-old daughter
Maddalena's dance recital. Every day is Father's Day for Dan Passerini.

He's a single dad of two children.

Not by choice.

It was thrust upon him in a tragic instant. A moment that changed the
young Passerini family forever. Dan, a man with a doctoral degree in
biochemistry, two businesses and a penchant for perfection, has become
a more complete father, but said he's still learning.
Learning to substitute cell phone calls for spur-of-the-moment tea
parties. To skip a business meeting for a seat at a school Christmas
program. To realize the 20 minutes it takes to comb Maddalena's naturally
curly black hair are memories he wants his daughter to cherish.

"I've seen a lot of growth and maturity in him, and I admire him," said
Dan's mother, Betty Passerini.

By the spring of 2004, life was as good as it could get, Dan thought.

Dark-haired and still lean, Dan was half of a duo that once competed in
the jujitsu world championships in Denmark. His business, Cutting Edge
Resources Group, was growing, from booking only a motivational speaker
for corporate clients to adding bands and comedians, becoming a full
entertainment company. He recalled peering from his second-floor home
office window on Fayette Avenue NW. He smiled inside. His wife and love
of his life, Jodi, a beautiful blonde with blue eyes, played in the yard with
their children, then 18-month-old Maddalena and 3-year-old Mario.

"It's all she ever wanted, a boy and a girl," said Jodi's mom, Candy Briggs.

"It just worked, a great balance," Dan said.

Dan met Jodi while both attended Walsh University in 1995. Most
everyone on campus knew the popular Jodi (Strazi). Walking in a group,
one of Dan's friends pointed her out. He was going to marry that girl, Dan
told them. He said it almost jokingly. Like when a guy bragged he was
going to marry Julia Roberts, Courtney Cox or Cindy Crawford.

Turned out, she was interested.

That fall, the gymnast and cheerleader who'd graduated from Northwest
High School in 1993 began dating Dan.

Less than two years later, they wed.

"It was like being struck by lightning," he said. "I don't know if I'll get
struck by lightning again."
Together, the family grew. Dan earned his doctorate in 1999. He and Mike
Dunphy, a martial arts instructor and science professor at Walsh,
mortgaged their homes and went into business together. A motivational
speaker, Dunphy traveled the country, speaking at places such as Proctor
& Gamble and Pfizer Pharmaceutical and universities, all under the
umbrella of Cutting Edge Resources.

"(Jodi) was like a daughter to me," Dunphy said. "Not only was she
physically beautiful, she was the sweetest person you'd ever want to
know. She kept him grounded ... those two were so much in love."

Jodi eventually quit her job as a dental hygienist to join her husband and
Dunphy in the business. Dunphy was the one who'd introduced Jodi to
Dan at Walsh in the first place. Even working together in the same house
all day, Dan said, the couple didn't tire of each other.

Maybe because they complemented each other so well.

Dan, the protector and provider; Jodi, the nurturer.

She was a morning person. He's a night person.

He focused on the business and grew it, because of Jodi. He had changed
his fair share of diapers. He'd played with the children for hours. He'd
held them late at night until they fell asleep on his chest. He believed he
was head of the household, but now he realizes it was Jodi.

Make sure the kids were dressed and fed?

Jodi.

Social calendar and gift-buying?

Jodi.

Cook and clean?

Jodi.

Meticulously creating scrapbooks filled with photos and colorful

stenciling to chronicle everything from pregnancies to first baths and
birthdays?

Again, Jodi.

He didn't realize how much was Jodi until Jodi was gone.

Jodi Passerini, 29-year-old wife and mom, died on April 14, 2004, of a
brain aneurysm. At such a young age, and with two young children, Jodi's
passing seemed especially abrupt and cruel.

The evening before, she worked alongside Dan in the office. She went
downstairs to cook dinner. Three-year-old Mario was awake on the first
floor. Eighteen-month-old Maddalena slept upstairs. After a few minutes,
Jodi stumbled back up the stairs and crumpled to the floor.

Her head was killing her, she told him.

The flu maybe? Dan wasn't sure.

When she began to vomit, he asked if he should call 9-1-1.

Yes, Jodi said.

"That's when I knew it had to be bad," he said.

She was tough as can be, not a complainer.

After calling for help, Dan phoned his in-laws to stay with the children.
He rode to the hospital in an ambulance with Jodi and paramedics. On the
way, her vital signs plummeted. She failed reflex tests and could barely
move. Dan recalled the driver telling him he could talk to Jodi as they
drove to Mercy Medical Center.

Dan asked Jodi how she was.

She lifted a hand and gave a thumbs-down sign, before her arm
collapsed.

Jodi never regained consciousness. With a ventilator making Jodi breathe,

family converged on the hospital. Dan remembers seeing a priest. The
Passerinis are Catholic. He'd graduated from St. Thomas Aquinas High
School. They'd married at Sts. Philips and James in front of 700 guests. He
recalls nurses crying.

"It was a brutal scene," he said.

Jodi was removed from life support.

Surrounded by family and friends, Dan still felt quite alone.

For months, even years, he felt that way.

"That first year, I wasn't even sure he would survive," said Dan's mom,
Betty Passerini.

Two things pulled him forward Mario and Maddalena.

"I thought, 'OK, life is over for me, but not the kids,'" Dan said.

For two years, a family friend, Jennie Dieter, brought groceries once a
week for Dan and the children. She usually threw in a home-cooked meal.
Dan's parents, Terry and Betty Passerini, help every week. Jodi's parents,
Lynn Strazi and Candy Briggs, and their spouses regularly help. Friends
such as Jeff and Joanne Hill, who lost a 14-year-old daughter in similarly
suddenly fashion, share a common bond.

"Dan is just one of those guys who can get it all done," Jeff Hill said.

It's too soon to tell, Dan said, but he believes he has potential to be a
good father. One who can create memories of success and joy for his
children to look back on 20 years down the road. Even if he must keep a
265-item to-do list on his computer to organize his and his children's
lives.

"I think I have an opportunity to be a more well-rounded father," Dan

said.

Maybe, he said, he'll be as good as his own father, Terry, who came from
Italy to the U.S. at age 16 and raised four boys. He did it on his teacher's
salary in Lake Local Schools, where Terry taught French and Spanish. Or
maybe as good as Jodi's dad, Lynn, a geologist who lost his only child
when Jodi died.

"I'm blessed that they treat me as part of their family ... I really admire her
parents and my parents," Dan said.

Dan had heard enough motivational speeches to know you create your
own happiness. That you can overcome adversity. There is, however, no
magic bullet, he said. At age 35, he's a widower who's dated sparingly.

After hanging on to that house on Fayette for comfort, he decided it was

holding them back. It's for sale. Dan, Mario and Maddalena moved into
the Meadowlands allotment in the same Jackson school district. Piece by
piece, they brought along "mommy's garden" with them to the new home.

Dan hung mommy's stocking by the chimney with care for the first
Christmas in the new home, and put an angel inside it.

"Every decision he made ... was about the children," said Realtor Marianne
Parcher, who sold him the home on Chanticleer Circle NW and is
marketing the Fayette house. "It was like that through the entire
transaction."

Aside from the motivational speaking company, he balances a second job

with help from extended family as a representative for Cutter
Exploration, an oil and gas company in Geauga County.

"Dan is a tenacious character," said his business partner, Dunphy, who

has returned to teaching at Walsh. "He just goes to the limit. He's
absolutely brilliant. He's now become quite formidable."

Dan sees Jodi in both children.

Especially in Maddalena's sly smirk, the way she puts her hand on her hip
or runs on her toes.

Dan realizes his family will be happiest when he's happy himself. He said
he's getting there, even if he does like to watch his wedding video on
their anniversary. That's one day he wants to wallow in. At times, he's
alternately hated life, fought depression and felt sorry for himself. The
children picked him up. They, like Jodi, have a knack for putting life in
perspective.

Like after Dan finished reading Mario a story one night.

Mario asked, "Do you still miss mommy?"

"I'll always miss mommy," Dan said.

OK, Mario nodded.

He asked one more question.

"Will you always be sad?"

Reach Repository staff writer Tim Botos at (330) 580-8333 or e-mail:

tim.botos@cantonrep.com

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