“Me-ni-no Park!”

Every morning, just as we turn left out of our driveway, my two-year-old cries out, points right towards the Charlestown Navy Yard, and beckons “that way.” There’s no place she loves more.

And what a place it is. Beautiful new slides. Vibrant colors. Picturesque views of the Harbor. But it’s no ordinary park.

Shortly after his own stay in Spaulding Rehabilitation Hospital, Mayor Thomas M. Menino toured its new site in early 2013. Noticing a nearby plot of land, he saw not what was, but what could be. What should be. For a man who decried vision, he had the best one imaginable: a city where everyone is welcome.

Mayor Thomas M. Menino Park is Boston’s first universally accessible playground. A place where children of all abilities play together, the sign reads. My Riley and Jack ride the carousel and swing side-by-side with their peers in wheelchairs. It’s so natural. And yet so important. Cities need to work for all their people. This park does. It is a place of renewal, resilience, inclusion, and utter joy. It is quintessentially Menino.

He was obsessed with making Boston a better place. We don’t live in an equal world or an equal Boston. But he worked daily to correct for the inequities and injustices that marred the city’s past.

The lasting image I have of him is at the head of a long table, looking out onto Faneuil Hall and the Freedom Trail below. Most see him out in the neighborhoods, which mostly was where he was. He told you to get out of here. Stop spouting all your nonsense and literally get out of the building and into the community. That’s where the city is.

But I see him at the table and hear him delivering one key message loud and clear. Government is about helping people. I heard him say it almost every day.

I don’t blame you for dismissing it as a slogan. Politics these days too often feels like empty words and even emptier agendas. Campaigning in poetry and governing in no’s.

But he meant it with every fiber of his being. That’s why he was there. The office wasn’t a stepping stone to some higher summit. For him, being mayor was the top of the mountain. And he pulled others who had a tougher climb up with him.

Boy did he do a lot of heavy lifting. He was a gladiator. He worked his face off. We were no match for Tom Menino.

He showed up everywhere. And he kept showing up year after year. It wasn’t an election year drop-in. It was an I’m-going-to-be-here-for-you-every-damn-day-and-I’m-going-to-keep-coming-back. Just ask around. That 2009 stat that 57 percent of residents personally met the Mayor is undeniably powerful. But I wish they’d counted how many met him more than once. I’d bet almost as many.

He lived his life in service to others. Two of the best years of mine were spent in service to him.

You wouldn’t characterize him as emotive or over the top but he overflowed with love for the city. He restored my faith in government, and in faith. He showed that a good Catholic was one that stood up—to the Church, to Chick-Fil-A, to the NRA. He’s surely up there opening the gates a little wider.

He knew where he came from. He lived in the same neighborhood, in the same modest house, for decades. He knew who he was. He was a proud Italian who made me proud to be one.