PART FOUR: THE BEST BOY IN THE WORLD

The Best Boy In The World

   Gary's death has provoked so many emotions and memories, but I am most compelled by my brother as a boy.  I am haunted by how much I've missed, how many hints I was given back when we were both young, how many things there were about him that spoke in volumes about who Gary was and always would be.
   With the eyes of an observer, a participant, we were just kids who shared a childhood.  But looking at things with the heart of an historian, I am heartbroken and stunned that no one, me included, recognized the thoughts and actions of this little boy as what it truly was.  Kindness and consideration aside, there was something about this boy that was different, something that foretold of the greatness that Gary possessed.  Yet still, fifty plus years later, we are all just finding out what that was.

   There are three separate stories that have kept coming back to me throughout the years, three perfect examples of who Gary was as a boy.  The first of them was when we were very young.  He asked me if I could have one wish, anything in the whole wide world, what would it be.  I don't remember my answer, but  I will never forget Gary's.  " What I want more than anything is to be the best boy I can be, "  he told me, " I want to be the best boy in the world. " 

   The second was a New Years Eve, 1961.  Gary was 8, I was 5.  My parents were having a party in the basement, our older brothers were out, so it was just Gary and me.  I remember hearing him moving about in my bedroom so I started to come down the hall to see what he was doing, but he shouted out to me to wait.  " Not yet, " he told me, " I'll let you know when it's ready. "
   After a time, he came to get me.  I recall him leading me down the hallway, holding my hand and smiling.   The T.V. was on, playing Guy Lombardo's New Years Eve party, there was a tablecloth in the middle of the floor, and on that table cloth were two champagne glasses filled with bright green Dr. Brown's lime soda, two big dishes filled with M & M's, a block of Velveeta Cheese with two knives and a plate of Ritz crackers arranged in perfect order.  Next to the places he set for us to sit were our noise makers - two Farberware cook pots, two wooden spoons and two sets of metal lids.
   "  Happy New Year!!! "  Gary yelled when he showed me what he had done.  " This is our party!! "   So we sat at the floor, watched Guy Lombardo, ate M&M's, Velveeta cheese and Ritz crackers, drank our green soda and waited until the big ball dropped in Times Square.  And, at the stroke of midnight, Gary picked up his noisemakers, pounded on them, screamed Happy New Year over and over and danced all around the room, laughing and smiling.
   I never forgot that New Years, and although I've had 54 others, that one stands out above all the rest.  It was truly the best New Years celebration I've ever been invited to, the one where I remembered all the details, the one I felt most welcomed and cherished, and I knew Gary did what he did to make me happy, to make me feel like I was the most important guest at any party, anywhere.  I often wondered if he would have celebrated if he had been alone that night, and I am certain that he would have.

   The third memory is probably the hardest one of all, the most telling.  Gary was about ten or eleven and he is standing in the hallway just off the kitchen.  My father and grandfather are in the kitchen talking and I hear my grandfather say he has no patience for Gary, and a few other things I can not decipher.  I expect my father to say something back, to defend his son, but instead, I hear them both laugh.
   I remember seeing Gary sort of sag, his chin down against his chest and he just stood there.  I didn't really understand what I saw, but I came out of my room on the other side of the hall and walked up to him.   " You O.K.? "  I asked him.
   And just that quick, he straightened up, turned his back to me, flipped his eyelids inside out (something he did on a regular basis), turned around to face me, smiling, and with his wrists turned backwards and his hands held into little fists moving back and forth, says to me, "  Hi Ya, Mr. Donahee - eeee-   eeeee -  eeeee. ", a reference to a regular skit on the Jackie Gleeson show he personalized and found hilarious.  " Come on, Sad Sack, " he told me, " You just gotta laugh. "
 
    If I could have that wish back that Gary asked me about all those years ago, it would be this:

To go back to that very moment when he asked me what my wish was, to kneel before him and embrace him, and tell him your wish came true,  you were, indeed, the best boy in the world,  you grew up to be the best man in the world, an amazing man, that greatness awaits you, that you will be someone who will be heard and respected, that no one will ever doubt you or disregard you again, that you will become that father you always needed, you will  have that family you always wanted where you were the star, that you will be loved and cherished beyond your wildest dreams.  And yes, you will be rich, richer than Dad ever was in so many ways. We will be so proud of you and everything you have done and you will make so many people happy and help everyone who has ever known you.   And after you are gone, I will promise that no one will forget you.

PART 3 - LOST JUST TO THE LEFT OF FOUND

PART 3 - LOST JUST TO THE LEFT OF FOUND

   I need  to start at the end, to the week of Gary's death, to the day of his funeral and the week following to his shiva (wake).  Something shifted in me, something changed, and it went far beyond grief and mourning.
   I flew down to southern California the morning of Gary's funeral and spent that week with Gary's family, my family, his friends.  I listened to the numerous eulogies and testaments and watched, it seemed, with eyes that were not my own.  What I witnessed was motivated by love, honor and respect, yet I was confused and troubled by much of what I heard.
   I began to realize that, although familiar, there were very few who seemed to really know the depth of substance that made up my brother.  They only saw what they saw, what Gary showed them,  what they needed him to be.
   There is a story and a history behind my brother, a reason he became the man he was, a path of his own design he followed, but his great humility and desire to protect those he loved kept most of it hidden.  Gary had no secrets and there was no deceit, but in the equation that became my brother's life, he made no allowances and held no space for things he thought selfish, painful or incidental.  The very things that would damage, destroy and lessen the average man became the very things that strengthened him and motivated him to never repeat the hurts and injustices that he had been shown.  Nothing deviated Gary from his goal to be the best that he could be, nothing crushed his spirit.
   He knew who he was as a very young boy in spite of the fact that he was lost somewhere in the family dynamic, especially in our father's eyes.  He was as righteous as a little boy as he was a man, yet as much as he tried to prove himself to his father, it made no difference.  From where I sat, as a child, he was given no consideration, no praise and no acknowledgement  for all the goodness and decency he showed.  His reward for everything he had done was disregard and indifference, and the only currency he thought would get his father's attention was finance and success.  From this came the beginning of Gary's empire.
  Even so, and as driven as he was from as long as I can remember to earn money, what seemed to give Gary the most joy as a boy was making those around him happy.  He loved to make people laugh, loved to make them feel special, gave them the attention that I know he needed himself.  His kindness grew with him and he went out of his way to please everyone he cared about.  He gave this world the very things he never got for himself, yet his motivation was pure and genuine.  I don't ever recall hearing Gary ask anyone for anything, ever, validation included.
 
    In getting back to the end, to those of us with questions, those of us who need to look beyond the man we saw, there are details and stories, moments and events that are more revealing and important than anything we can conjure up to fill in those blanks.  What I saw and felt that week that Gary disappeared forever dropped me to my knees, broke my heart and filled me with the absolute knowledge that his greatness, accomplishments and substance can not be buried with him, it can't be gone from our sights and hearts just because he is.  There is so much more of Gary around us, so many things he touched and changed that we are still rewarded with, too many things he started that have not yet come to fruition.  As far as I can tell, he is still here and always will be.  There is great comfort and peace thinking he is still protecting us and watching over us, even if only in our dreams.
 

PART 2; SORROW & JOY - MAGIC & LOSS

SORROW & JOY - MAGIC & LOSS

   My brother's death has touched my heart and entered my spirit like nothing in this world ever has.  I am inspired and destroyed at the same time, strengthened and delivered like I have been born again, yet there is a new emptiness, a vast, cold darkness that will never be illuminated again.  There will always be a void that can only be filled by Gary and there is a safety that I will never know again.
   I have been anointed in sorrow, absolute sorrow and disbelief.  Yet still, as much as I understand, as imprinted as my soul will forever be with the vision of his four young sons and my two surviving brothers carrying his casket to his grave site, as much as my rational mind can comprehend, I can't have my brother be gone.  I can't have Gary be dead.  I need to bring him back, I need to have him here with me, with us, so we won't have to know how our world could possibly go on without him.  I need to resurrect him so I can see him again, so I can prove to myself that he really was here, that he really was the man that we knew, the small boy I adored, that one person who made all the difference in the world, that you knew only came around once in a lifetime.
   I have no magic, no way to change what happened, but I do have words.  I have words, I have memories and I have a reason to tell Gary's story, a way to bring him back and hold on to him as long as those words allow.  May God give me the strength to do him the justice and awe he so deserves.
 

PART ONE: REQUIEM FOR A WOOLY MAN

    In the early morning hours of November 3, 2011, I received a phone call I never thought I'd get.  My nephew had told me his father, my big brother Gary, had just died.
   From that moment on, my whole world had changed.  For the first time in my life, I felt alone, unprotected and unsafe.  I had never had to face one solitary day without my brother in it and it wasn't until he was actually gone that I realized just how much of a difference his own life had made in my own.
   I'm probably more guilty than most in taking him for granted, for assuming too much and giving back so little.  My regrets, like before, wear like a straight jacket and there are moments I feel that I will not be able to live with myself for waiting too long and being much too late for not returning Gary's kindness, safety and love to him while I still had that chance.  How can I ever redeem myself in the eyes of a man who can no longer see me?
   But I know my brother was beyond wise and he was as good a man who has ever walked this world and somehow, I am hoping he understood that my love and respect for him would shine brighter that any words or actions could have ever been brought to light within his lifetime.  I am praying that my brother's essence might somehow become my own, if only briefly, if only long enough to say my peace someday and tell the world those very things I never took the chance to tell him myself.
   There are days and moments where I wish he can hear me, where I pray that it's true he is watching us all from his deserved place in heaven and smiling down on me for my intent to finally make him  proud and show him the worth only he seemed to see in me.
   My brother was a remarkable man and an even more commendable little boy, but most of all, he was my savior, my protector, my insulator from all things dangerous and scary in the world.  He was the one true constant thing that would give me the strength and incentive to prevail in any circumstance, the answer to all my prayers, the kind of big brother that only exists in legends and fables, in books and in dreams.
   But he was real, he existed, he was so much more than words or memories allow, so much bigger than the man he presented himself to be.  I often wondered if others saw him the way I did.
   The answer was proven to me during the week of my brother's funeral.  He was that very person to everyone who knew him.  When I looked around at the faces the day we buried Gary, I saw that same look of despair, loss and uncertainty that reflected back at me that morning when I looked into a mirror.  For just that while, there were hundreds of us who were kindred spirits, hundreds of us that loved and honored one man deeply, and would be walking into the world with nothing to hold us up and steady us for the first time.  It truly was the end of an era, the end of the innocence for all of us, the end of the world as we knew it for those of us who thought we knew him best.
   His four young sons seemed to be the only thing grounding me to this earth that week.  Being at Gary's house with them, his wife, his cats made it almost seem like he was still here, still alive, would be walking through the door at any minute.
   The boys and I talked for hours, telling stories about Gary.  After a while, I noticed how they hung on to my words about their father as a boy and a young adult, how they seemed surprised that we were all talking about the same man.  Later on, his youngest son Matt told me he needed to know his father's story, that he needed it all to make sense, needed to know who his father was before he was his dad.
   I saw that week that there was so much about my brother that not many people knew, so many things that remained misunderstood, too many good things that were never recognized or acknowledged.  So, to answer any questions and perhaps to save my own sanity and assuage my own guilt, these stories are for you, Matt, Cory, Scott and Jason and for anyone else who cared for Gary and wondered what was beneath the laughter.  Hopefully, by the time this is done, we might all know Gary a little better and it at all possible, love him just a little more.







November 4, 2011
Orange County, Ca.
The funeral of my brother, Gary Prince

Requiem for a Righteous Prince  


  There is a Hebrew word - Tsadik - a word translated as the perfectly righteous.  Gary's Hebrew name is Yisrael -which means Prince.  Tsadik Yisrael - A Righteous Prince.

   I have been fortunate enough to have been Gary's sister and lucky enough to have had him love me.

   People have stood up today and talked about Gary's generosity, his frugality, his dirty jokes and emails, speaking only of his bargain hunting, his finances, his humor.  I heard someone say how angry they were that Gary was taken from us.  I need to address the other side of Gary and the nature of his true spirit.
   When I first heard my brother was gone, I never once experienced anything remotely like anger.  Instead, I felt honored.  Honor and privilege were the first things I felt when I heard my brother had died.  Honor and pride were the last things I recalled when he was still alive.

   For me, Gary was about many things, but generosity and jokes were not among them.  Strip Gary of his money, his dirty jokes and his crude presentation of them and what you had was the Gary I knew, the sweet, gentle, kind little boy who became the man with those same qualities.  Without the smoke screen of humor and finance, what you had was a man of great integrity and devotion, a fiercely loyal, loving man who was pure, genuine and all things good and decent.
   As a child and as a man, Gary's essence was about making those he loved safe and secure, never without guidance, never without sanctuary.

   Mitch Albom wrote in his book Have a Little Faith:

   " If you could pack for heaven, this is how you'd do it -
     Touching everything, taking nothing.."

   This is indeed what Gary did.  He wanted nothing in return for his deeds, but made it his job to change everything in his world, making it a little better than before he got there.  He was a master at teaching, yet his delivery was terrible and often misunderstood.

   Those who knew Gary, really knew him, understood this:  That beyond the crudeness and the laughter was an amazingly serious, highly principled, complex, joyous and sensitive man whose one true ambition was and always has been to right what was wrong, fix what was broken, fill what was empty and love and cherish everything around him.  His passion for life, his family, his friends and his business associates was like nothing I had ever seen before.  For me, knowing Gary loved me and honored me as his sister made me see the worth I often doubted.
   Yes, he was an extraordinary man, but Gary taught me on a regular basis that there is true greatness in ordinary things.  Ordinary things like love, loyalty, family, faith, compassion and joy.
   I still can't imagine a world without my dear big brother in it, yet I know I am forever changed and bettered by him.  It has been written that the only full heart is a broken one.  My world is indeed a little colder now, a lot less safe and a whole lot bigger.  And still, my heart is finally full.
   I know I'll be living my life from here on in honoring more than just a memory, more than just a man.  I will be carrying a little piece of Gary with me for the rest of my days and that, in itself, will make all the difference.

   Gary, we are all so proud of you, so grateful you were here.  You were loved and honored beyond your wildest dreams and you did absolutely everything you set out to do and then some.  You made a difference, you mattered, you listened, you healed and you made us all believe, that in your eyes, we were blessed, validated and heard.  You touched everything within your reach and you carried the burdens of those around you on your strong, steady shoulders and in your true, gentle heart.  You were so many things to so many people.  We adored you, we trusted you, we counted on you and what you gave us in return was the most important thing of all - knowing that somewhere out there, as dependable as the promise of sunrise through the impending darkness, there was someone who believed in us, wholeheartedly, and would never let us down.
   You'll be leaving behind more than you could ever know.  There is a whole family, an entire community who have lost both their anchor and their light, their reason and their grace.  May we all find our way without you now with God's mercy and our precious memories of you and all you have taught us by your example.  You were truly one of the good guys, saving the day one soul at a time.
   You've changed my world and made it a better, sweeter, warmer place to be.  I will miss you more than words can describe.  Thank you for all that you were, all that you've done and the legacy you have left us with.
   Good bye, my righteous prince.  Good bye.