Our house was always full of kids when we were growing up. Kids loved my mom and our house was the house to hang out at. One Christmas when I was about eleven years old and my older sister Kim was about fifteen, she had a Christmas party with a bunch of her friends. They played Christmas music, strung popcorn, ate junk food and so on. I was in a grumpy mood that night. I have no idea why. But one of my favorite people was there that night. My sister's friend Joe. He lived a few houses down from us and was at our house almost every day. He became part of our family. Even if my sister wasn't home he would come over to visit and play cards with my Mom or spend time talking to my Dad listening to his advice.
I really liked Joe because Joe really liked me. He never treated me like some pesky little sister. I remember the night of that Christmas party, Joe invited me to sit on the couch next to him and sing Christmas carols even though I was in a no good bad mood and didn't want to sing. Just that gesture of him including me made me feel good. That was Joe. He was kind. He was the "good" one in his very large family of ten kids. He never got into trouble. Joe was also the only one at the party to show up in a suit but that was him. He loved the holidays, especially Christmas.
That Christmas one of my gifts was the game Perfection. For weeks after Christmas, Joe would play that game with me and we would have competitions as to who would get the better time before the pieces popped out all over the place. Even today when I play that game with my kids, I think of Joe and our competitions.
After Joe and my sister graduated high school, we didn't see much of Joe anymore. He went into the service and eventually became a state trooper in New Hampshire, got married and had a son.
I remember the last time I saw Joe. He was in his twenties by then and just stopped by my Mom's house with another friend to visit. We sat at our kitchen table and played cards with my mom, just like the old days. I had not seen him in years but he was as handsome and happy as ever. He had this great infectious smile and such a wonderful joy for life.
Fast forward to November of 1989. Joe was 28 years old with an 8-month old son. He was killed in the line of duty in a car accident as he and another officer were transporting a prisoner. Crazy how I've outlived him by so many years now. I visit his grave each spring as he is buried near my foster brother, Glenn.
My family loved Joe. We were all there for him at the end praying for him to pull through. And when he didn't, we were all there to pay respect to him and his family at his funeral along with hundreds of police officers.
I know you are in heaven shining down on all of us. This was truly your favorite time of the year and I just want you to know that our family will always think of you with great affection, and never forget you, your kindness or your passion for life.
You were good...like perfection. Merry Christmas Joe. :)
I really liked Joe because Joe really liked me. He never treated me like some pesky little sister. I remember the night of that Christmas party, Joe invited me to sit on the couch next to him and sing Christmas carols even though I was in a no good bad mood and didn't want to sing. Just that gesture of him including me made me feel good. That was Joe. He was kind. He was the "good" one in his very large family of ten kids. He never got into trouble. Joe was also the only one at the party to show up in a suit but that was him. He loved the holidays, especially Christmas.
That Christmas one of my gifts was the game Perfection. For weeks after Christmas, Joe would play that game with me and we would have competitions as to who would get the better time before the pieces popped out all over the place. Even today when I play that game with my kids, I think of Joe and our competitions.
After Joe and my sister graduated high school, we didn't see much of Joe anymore. He went into the service and eventually became a state trooper in New Hampshire, got married and had a son.
I remember the last time I saw Joe. He was in his twenties by then and just stopped by my Mom's house with another friend to visit. We sat at our kitchen table and played cards with my mom, just like the old days. I had not seen him in years but he was as handsome and happy as ever. He had this great infectious smile and such a wonderful joy for life.
Fast forward to November of 1989. Joe was 28 years old with an 8-month old son. He was killed in the line of duty in a car accident as he and another officer were transporting a prisoner. Crazy how I've outlived him by so many years now. I visit his grave each spring as he is buried near my foster brother, Glenn.
My family loved Joe. We were all there for him at the end praying for him to pull through. And when he didn't, we were all there to pay respect to him and his family at his funeral along with hundreds of police officers.
I know you are in heaven shining down on all of us. This was truly your favorite time of the year and I just want you to know that our family will always think of you with great affection, and never forget you, your kindness or your passion for life.
You were good...like perfection. Merry Christmas Joe. :)
Joseph Gearty 1961-1989
