By Zack DiGregorio Father’s Day usually conjures images of cringy gifts, feigned smiles as torn gift wrap reveals another tie, or families gathering for barbeques in the backyard. For me, this Father’s Day, I can’t stop thinking about a simple, little Hebrew refrain. In October of 2019, I was in a doctor’s office where everything was a different shade of gray, including my father, Steve DiGregorio’s, eyes, staring out the window as he underwent what would become a regular regimen of chemotherapy for pancreatic cancer. I had driven him to his treatment that day and later on, we were joined by o…

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