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My father showed me so much love. He showed my brother so much love. He just, he had a rough life. You know, he grew up in a boys home in the Bronx. He didn't really know his own family. So I couldn't hold it against him that he didn't know how to parent. He didn't know how to be the perfect husband. But he loved as much as he could.

I loved my mother and father.

I was given an enormous amount of love by my parents.

I adored my father - I was more attached to him than anyone.

My father never once told me he loved me. I told him I loved him only one time - that was when he was sick. It was hard, the way he showed his love. I didn't understand what he was trying to teach me. Now I know, but it came too late for him to see it. After he was gone, I realized he was trying to strengthen my mind to make me better.

My father loved people, children and pets.

I adored my father.

My father was a beautiful man.

My family was loving... they were very supportive and very affectionate, and basically I could do what I wanted, and basically it wasn't anything dangerous, thank God.

Dad was the first man I fell in love with. He was a very funny man. He grew up in the East End of London and was very dynamic, and I understood why my mother fell in love with him.