Good Bye, Davey

Some people don't make a big splash in life. They meander their way through the ups and downs in a sort of honorable anonymity. Rolling with the punches. Going with the flow. A reserved nature their most telling trait - or so it seems. But beneath their seemingly disinterested facades, the quiet types poignantly remind us that everyone's life is a story worth telling.

My brother David's journey had an auspicious beginning. He was fun-loving, energetic and productive. Dave especially enjoyed the outdoors. So much so he often "commuted" to work at the Connecticut Yankee Power Plant upriver from where he once lived via his trusty old canoe.

Dave's struggles began when the decommissioning of Connecticut Yankee left him without a job. The loss seemed to take the wind out of his sails. He struggled to find his way. It wasn't long before hopelessness set in, and loneliness and despair became his emotional nemeses.

By the most meaningful measure of success, however - the ability to love - Dave somehow managed to excel. He found a purpose amid the turmoil. He seemed to sense that being there - at least for one other person - was one sure way to be there for himself. Dave committed to regular day trips and visits with another person in need, his dear brother Vinny. For every sunset he and Vinny shared at Mystic Harbor, a moment in time became their reason to be alive. In a joyful symbiosis, they sustained one another with brotherly love.

Over matched by life's demands for some time, and living with a loneliness too bitter to even confront, Dave proved all too human in his struggles to cope and survive. Alcoholism is, after all, a most insidious disease. Yet somehow he always managed a smile and a selfless query about the well-being of those who were important to others. And when inquired of his own state of well-being, in the face of ominous evidence to the contrary, Dave always revealed a willingness to put on his best face. "Hey, Willy. I'm doin' great. How're you doin'?" You'll understand, Davey, if I didn't always believe you.

If there was a way to find dignity and purpose amid the chaos and suffering, David surely found it. Such was the resilience of his remarkable spirit.

We will sorely miss you and your gentle ways. Thank you for being such a good brother. Good Bye, Davey.

David Michael Cooney
Born February 20, 1954 • Died June 9, 2009
"Rest in Peace"

Good Bye, Vinny

He was never a normal child. Restricted by obesity and burdened with special emotional needs, the mental and physical deficits of his early life left him at the mercy of the unkind. Bullying, name-calling, and taunting all rained upon him mercilessly as he navigated his way from early childhood through adolescence and onto adulthood.

For a long time, he feared the mere shadow of his fellow man. He was not given to trust, lest he be assaulted by disappointment yet again. He was driven into emotional exile by some of the worst that humanity had to offer. He appeared defeated.

But something happened. A strength began to emerge. It came from within. Suddenly he found the ability to forgive, and the healing began. Slowly, humanity earned its way back into his trust and faith. A sibling here, a sibling there. A friend here, a friend there. And supported by the kind of affection only a mother knows how to give, he found his way back among the living - and the loving.

How does someone beset by so many challenges and possessed of so few conventional tools find the courage to love again? How does someone so weathered by malevolence end up the very picture of goodness?

My hunch is that the best of what humanity had to offer found its way into his heart. Kindness, compassion and love. Three qualities not given to defeat. And for that we are grateful.

Who was this man? He was my brother. His name was Vinny. He died today at the age of 56 after a long and courageous voyage through life. I know he loved me and the rest of his brothers and sisters because he told us he did every time he spoke to us. And because he taught me how, I was able to love him the way a brother should.

To my precious brother Vinny: Thank you, and . . . Good Bye.