Good bye Uncle Mike

My grandfather's brother Mike passed away on Saturday. Their mother was Anella, the woman one of my restaurants was named after. He was born July 26th, 1927, and in a moment of life truly coming full circle, he died on his birthday at 87 years old. Below is an excerpt from his obituary, which does a great job of summing up his life in a few sentences.

Michael was a parishioner and an usher with Sacred Heart Church of Monroe and was a member of Teamsters Local #445 of Newburgh. He was Vice President of Mancino Trucking Company, Inc., the former President of Monroe Skating Paradise, a former member of Mombasha Fire Company, former member of Knights of Columbus Council #2079, and a former member of American Legion Post #488 of Monroe. He was a former Trustee for the Village of Monroe and retired as the Highway Superintendent with the Village of Monroe. Michael was a Veteran of the U.S. Army and served his country during World War II. 

Of course, an obituary only mentions the big stuff, the positions you held and places you worked and how many kids you had and which school you graduated from. It can never tell the full story. I'm sure he had dreams that were never realized and moments of beauty only he saw. In his 87 years surely his heart was broken many times and he took paths he later regretted. A life is made up of a million little moments, all colliding into each other and overlapping into a quilt of memories you have to reflect back on when you are older.  And perhaps this is what saddens me the most with my grandmother. Her quilt of memories is disintegrating everyday. It has decades worth of gaping holes.

I only knew my Uncle Mike as an old man (he was 53 when I was born, which for a kid may as well be 100) and always liked him. He lived two doors down from my grandparents on Elm Street in Monroe.  My grandpa and Uncle Mike's older brother Carl had the house in-between them and could be seen driving up and down the driveway in his car with his stick out the window. He was blind from diabetes and was permitted to pull the car up to the street. Not legally permitted, but apparently all the grown ups felt it was okay. As a little girl I knew to stay away from the driveway when Uncle Carl was driving.

As a teen I worked at a much loved deli in town, Monroe Bagels and Deli. Some of my uncles would come in for their morning coffee or a buttered roll in the afternoon, but Uncle Mike was the only one that tipped me, something that became a joke between me and my mom's brother. My boss at the deli Dave, seemed to know everyone, my family included, and I took mental note of how cool I thought that was. Many years later when I opened up my first restaurant I realized how very much like Dave I had become, in my work ethic and memory of all my regulars.

I will remember Uncle Mike as being funny and kind to me as a kid lying on his living room floor coloring while watching The Price is Right and as an awkward, bagel-slinging teen, grinning at his quarter tip. Rest in Peace Uncle Mike. I hope you are roller skating through heaven with a cup of coffee in your hand and a smile on your face.