It’s a scary word, isn’t it? A feeling that we deny at all costs. No one wants to think about it and we don’t express it until we’ve had a loss so great that we can’t deny the sinking, heartbroken, take your breath away, feeling of despair. Recently I’ve had some grieving that has surprised me. It has smacked me across the face, really. You see, recently – a man who I thought was invincible, was often my hero, always my brother, a soul mate, and best friend, passed from this world. To say that it was unexpected is an understatement. To say that we hadn’t had much contact recently would be very true – but, Joe and I? We would lose touch for a couple of years and then pick up where we left off, without a moment’s hesitation. We did it all the time. I never, in my wildest dreams would have ever thought that we would not have that opportunity again. But that’s exactly what has happened.
I met Joe when I was about 14. He was my friend Jimmy’s older brother – and kind of intimidating. He was big, loud, opinionated, and frankly – he scared the shit out of me. I’d only met him a couple of times, but I was sure I didn’t want to incur his wrath. Ever. When my friend, his brother, decided to move to California from Long Island, when we were about 19- there was a going away party at the bar where Joe worked. I went, of course and Joe and I connected. Just totally, completely, connected. We spent the next couple of years joined at the hip.
There are thousands, yes, thousands of stories I could tell about Joe. We remained friends, even though we lost touch quite a few times, for the next three decades. We’ve been in business together, we’ve planned things together, we have fought, and loved, and been as close and as far apart as two people can be. He had this knack of getting you to the place you needed to be to realize what it was that you were doing, wasn’t serving your purpose. He was fiercely loyal, loved with every fiber of his being, and could really piss you the fuck off. Complicated? Yeah. He was terribly complicated. He was also very, very simple – in that what he believed to be right, he would never compromise.
Yes, there are thousands of stories I could tell you about Joe – but I think the most important one is the story about my brother’s funeral and how Joe helped me to survive it.
In 1987, when I was 22, my 16 year old brother committed suicide. It broke me into a million pieces. I was engaged at the time, but somehow that fiance isn’t who got me through that week. The person who got me through that week was Joe.
When I say I was broken, I am not kidding. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, I could not function on any level. Joe saw that and stepped in. Literally, this man made sure that I was dressed, showered, that my hair and teeth were brushed, that I made it to the wake, funeral, church service, family functions. He gave up his life for that whole week, to make sure that I did not fall down. He created “people” fences, manned with other good friends to make sure that I was always safe, always protected, and that I had a soft spot to land at all times, and that no one could hurt me. I truly do not remember a lot of it. I just remember that when I looked around, he was always within arms reach, watching to make sure that if I needed him, he was right there.
All day, every day – he made sure that I made it to the obligatory masses, the dinners, the luncheons, the family meetings, the wake, the viewings, the family gatherings. Every night, he took me out – made sure I ate and got me drunk enough to get to sleep, at a reasonable hour to start all over again the next day. He stayed with me at night, held my hand, hugged me while I cried – no, sobbed. I remember crying so hard that my body ached from the sobbing and all the while he told me that Justin was in a better place, that I would see him again, that there was nothing I could have done and even though I didn’t always believe what he was telling me, I was comforted by his words and by his warmth.
So – grief. Yes, I’m feeling it – feeling it very hard. But I know that his family, his wife, his children, his sister, his brother, they are feeling such an exquisite pain. A pain I know all too well and one that Joe helped me through, all those years ago. I hope someday to be able to sit with his daughters, wife, brother, sister, and nephew and tell them some of my favorite stories about Joe. The tough ones, and the easy ones; the funny, the sad, the risque, and the sublime.
I’m so lucky to have been loved by that man and I know that there are many, many others who feel the same way. Because – when you love fiercely and when you’re fiercely loved, there’s no substitute – and you are forever changed.
Goodnight, sweet prince and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.