This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write. My heart is heavy as I try to put into words the loss of my Dad, Duane Malinowski—“Senior”—who passed away suddenly at just 65. It still doesn’t feel real. One moment he was here, larger than life, and the next, we were left with silence where his laughter, music, and voice used to be.
My dad wasn’t just a parent; he was my foundation. He taught me what it means to be strong, even when life feels impossible. He showed me how to believe in myself when doubt creeps in and how to block out negativity with quiet confidence. His words, “Be yourself and never cave,” weren’t just advice—they were a way of life he embodied every single day.
He was more than my biggest supporter—he was everyone’s. Whether coaching from the sidelines or cheering from the stands, he showed up. Not just for me, but for my siblings, our friends, and anyone lucky enough to know him. His encouragement was constant, his pride unwavering, and his presence unforgettable.
Music was the heartbeat of our relationship. Starting in 2012, I had the privilege of performing alongside him—moments that now feel both priceless and far too few. He didn’t just teach me how to play instruments; he taught me how to feel music, how to let it speak from the soul. That was his true gift.
Now, the instruments sit still. His accordion waits in quiet patience. And I’m left holding memories that echo louder than any song ever could.
Today, it feels like the music has truly fallen silent—but his rhythm, his lessons, and his love will live on in me forever.