Funeral for a friend

The photo at the left is of Mike Murino. I've known Mike for 14 years. Amazingly, we were actually neighbors for 7 years before that, but due to the nature of conflicting schedules and life in general, we had only crossed paths to wave and say "Hello" during that first 7 years. In '94 when I started working for "The City', it turned out I was in the same unit as Mike. During my training period, Mike stopped by at the garage I was training at (while I was inside a Squad car's trunk I should add) and yelled: "Hey Neighbor!, what are you doing in there?". That was Mike, he would always call you out... Often on your transgressions. Mike would always nail me for coming into work at the last minute ("Do you need a new alarm clock?"), or for not calling him often enough ("Are your fingers healed up now?"). It could give a rough impression, but it was all an act. Underneath, he was a guy who would help anyone who asked him, in anyway he could.

Mike also wanted people to just get along (which is why he would call people out on their behaviour, to get it out in the open and discuss it). He felt one year at work that there was not enough Christmas spirit in the shop. He twisted my arm to put together a door decoration for the shop (they used to give prizes for the best door). The above picture was taken to put inside one of the ornaments that was on the door (with all the Tech's pictures). It was one of the best years at the center and one of the few that everyone got along. I'm glad he talked me into doing it.

After my first few months (with "The City"), I ended up working the same job as Mike, but on a rotating shift (eight day week, two days on each shift: days/afternoon/midnights... every week). We had just moved into another house, the Mrs was home with daughter #1, and also taking care of her ailing Mother (who was also living with us). Times were very tight for us back then. At that time, there was zero overtime with "The City". I had been looking for side work, but no one could (or would) accommodate my goofy work schedule. Mike did some work on the side, so I asked him if he needed any help. After a few months he threw some work my way and it was good work. Stuff that I needed some direction on to start with, but was able to jump in with both feet. I was killing myself 48 hours a week for "The City" and another 24-32 hours a week for Mike, but it was when we needed it the most, and the extra income allowed us to make ends meet at one of the most difficult times of our lives. It was the type of help you can never really repay adequately. He only asked that I work hard for him, which I certainly did.

About the time he retired from "The City", he stopped doing side work (an injustice in his life that I will not detail here), which means I did as well. I've not worked for anyone else except myself and "The City" since. Over the last few years, Mike and I would talk every few months, or I'd get the occasional computer support call from him (Mike was very tech savvy, if I got a support call from him, it was usually a doozy). When we learned about his cancer, we all started getting together for breakfast more often. My partner at work; Sam (Sam was Mike's partner before he retired), also put together a nice get-together at the Palace Grill last December. Mike was also holding almost weekly court at the Manhattan Family Restaurant right up until the end.
Just two weeks ago, Sam did his (semi-)annual Pizza Party for Mike at a friends house.

Mike seemed determined to live his life as much as he could right to the end. Even though he was in tremendous pain and suffered beyond what most people can imagine; he managed to be himself. Here you can see him putting together a handtruck at his Pizza Party two weeks ago.

I'm preparing as I write this to go to his wake.
Much like everything with Mike, it will be an out-of-the ordinary experience for me.
Mike is the one friend that I never had a drink with, never sat down with one-on-one in person to talk about something that wasn't work related. Yes, we had many phone conversations, but face to face it has always been a crowd or if it was just he and I, it was work related getting something done. Mike let you come to him for the depth of the friendship. He might hassle you about it if you slacked, but he never pushed for more than he thought people could really do.
I'm glad I got to see him often in his last year of life. It seemed to be what he wanted more than anything. He will be missed by many folks. When I think of Mike, it will likely be in the following forms:
1) From inside the trunk of a car ; ) .
2) Working on something I've not seen before, when I'll recall how he would say "It works like a so & so", and then I would get it completely.
3) Stupidly looking at my fingers when he would ask if they were still broken (when I didn't call).
4) In my weekly prayer intentions (which he's already been in for the last two years).
5) A Mentor.

In posting the above photo album links, it dawned on me that after 14 years, I only have one picture with he and I in it, which was taken on July 11th of this year.
Here it is:
I went to see Mike last Friday, sadly he was not cognizant. I planned to stop by again on Sunday, but for some reason when I left, I said "Bye Mike" instead of my usual "See Ya".
He died later that day.

Good Bye Mike, I hope to See Ya one day ('cause I know you're in heaven).





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