A lot of you know that I lost someone dear to me recently. My cousin, who is also my godfather, lost a five year battle with cancer last Tuesday. It’s an immeasurable loss not just for me, but for anyone who knew him.
What made this situation unique is that four years ago, Michael asked me to do something for him. He asked me to give his eulogy. But there was a catch. A big catch. He wanted to read it.
So, even though he died last week, I wrote his eulogy, per his request, four years ago. I gave it to him four years ago. And his closest friends and family heard it Saturday when I spoke at the funeral. Or, at least, I tried to speak. I probably read one-third of it. Renee, thankfully, was strong enough to help with the rest because I was such a wreck.
You may think it strange for me to post it here. But I don’t. He was such an influence on me. He is a big part of who I am. So, if you know me, then you know Michael. By sharing this, I just want you to know him a little better.
Writing a eulogy isn’t really a difficult thing. It’s simply an expression of feelings. Delivering it, however, is usually the challenging part. At least for me.
But what makes this eulogy unique is that Michael actually knows what I’m going to say. Yup. He’s heard it already. or, I should say, he’s read it already.
That was his request. And how could I deny it? Even though there’s an obvious discomfort in writing a eulogy for someone when that someone is, well, still alive.
Know, please, that part of the way Michael and I dealt with his sickness was with humor. So much, in fact, that when he first asked me to do this, it was election season. You all remember the radio and TV ads that we hear during an election season. Well, Michael, in his own way, wanted to put a special touch on this. While you can rest assured that we didn’t in fact do this, we laughed for quite a while at his idea of him recording a message that I would play at the end of this that says, “I’m Michael Keane, and I approved this message.”
Because he has read it, I know that he did approve it. And, honestly, I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Because, for most of my life, I have sought Michael’s approval on so many levels. I don’t know if he realized that or not, but it’s true.
Not only are we cousins, he’s my godfather. He’s my accountant. He’s my friend. He’s my travel agent. He’s who I go to for pretty much anything. In short, he’s my guy.
He’s heard me deliver eulogies to my brother and to my father – and he knows now, only because he’s read this – that neither of those are as difficult for me as this one.
But, this isn’t about me. This is about Michael. As it should be. And as it will be.
There simply has been no greater male influence in my life than Michael Keane. I don’t make that statement lightly. Yet, it’s true.
He’s been all of what I mentioned earlier. He’s been a big brother. He’s been a father figure. And he’s been so much more. So much that I can’t always find the right words.
He’s taught me more about the Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, BlackJack, Rotisserie Baseball, Vegas and good steak – among other things — than anyone.
Michael played fantasy baseball, so I had to play fantasy baseball.
Michael went to Vegas, so I had to go to Vegas.
Michael went on baseball junkets, so I had to go on baseball junkets.
His generosity was incredible. Never asking for a thing in return, yet always giving.
One time, I was at his house, admiring his new man cave in the basement and dreaming about the day I’d have the same set up. A week later, the phone rings.
“Michael,” He said.
“Yeah, hey, how’s it going?” I asked.
“Good” he said.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He told me: “Get yourself to the mall, go into Tweeter and give them your name.”
“Um, why?” I asked.
“Would you just go, please. Don’t ask questions.” And that was it.
So I go. And I give my name to the associate. He types something in to the computer, smiles and says, come this way.
“Seems like you’ve got someone who likes you,” he says and before I realize what he means, he’s telling me, “You get that, that and that.”
What do you mean, I get that, that and that i asked.
Well, it seems Mr. Keane has taken care of this for you.
After the shock wore off, and I got things home and hooked up, I called to thank him.
Don’t thank me, he said. Just enjoy it. Needless to say, that wasn’t going to be a problem. That was just his way. He didn’t need thanks. Knowing that someone would enjoy his generosity – at any level – was enough for him.
As I said, he was my guy. For everything. Trips, steak, Disney advice, financial advice. Anything. He was the first call I’d make. And he always made sense. Always pointed me in the right direction. He taught me so much. About everything. About life.
And along the way, he would always kid.
He’d say, You know, I wouldn’t have to buy you stuff if you were an accounting major in school. Yup, that was one of his favorites. I’m a PR man by trade and Michael couldn’t understand why I’d want to work with words instead of numbers.
Ironically, I’m standing here because he finally understood why.
As I mentioned, Michael heard me deliver two eulogies – first my Dad’s and most recently my brother’s. After Tim’s funeral, family was gathering outside the church. I was still a wreck. Michael hugged me. Well, not really, but he put his arm around me to comfort me and for us, well, i think that was a hug. Whatever it was, it worked for me.
That wasn’t the most important part. It was what he said that I’ll never forget.
He said, “Now I understand why you do what you do. You have a gift.”
Not that I was seeking his approval, but it sure felt good to get it.
Whom I kidding? Of course, I was seeking his approval.
Which leads me to his request that I write his eulogy – before he died.
No pressure or anything. Not to sound weird, but normally, there wouldn’t be. It’s not like the person being eulogized typically knows what is being said about him.
Just the opposite in this case. He does know. Which brings the pressure.
He asked me to do this and he wanted to read it. Once I gave it to him, in a sealed envelope, I couldn’t help but think — What if I disappointed him? How could it possibly be good enough compared to all he’s done for me? After all, these are just words.
Well, I’m here, so I have to assume that it was good enough for him. In fact, as strange as it seems, maybe writing a eulogy for someone before they die isn’t such a bad idea. After all, in an Irish-Catholic family like ours, it’s not like we make a habit of actually sharing our feelings.
So, in a strange sense, for me, if there is one good thing that came out of Michael getting sick, it’s that I was finally able to tell him just how much he means to me.
Just how much he influences my life.
Just how much I love him.
And, because of that, I can’t tell you how much it means to me to know that he has, in fact, approved this message.