Visitation Information

"To Cathy, Jim, and Mom... Cathy, there are really no words adequate for the love and devotion you gave my brother. Jim knew what you had done for him, and he knew the sacrifices you made as his health declined. When I once tried to put his feelings for you into a song, Beyond Love seemed like the only way to describe it. You were his wife, his best friend, his caregiver, and the person who remained beside him through it all. I hope in the days ahead you can remember not only the difficult years, but the young man you fell in love with and all the good years and laughter that came before. Jim, ours was certainly an unusual journey. We were brothers who spent most of our lives not knowing the other existed. Somehow, as kids, we lived only a few miles apart. We walked some of the same streets, played in the same park, fished some of the same waters, knew some of the same people, and shared a love of baseball and music. We may have even crossed paths without knowing we were brothers. I've often wondered what might have happened if we'd met back then. After getting to know you, I think we might have become friends even if we hadn't shared the same blood. When we finally found each other, we sometimes talked for hours. I couldn't fix your health or take away what you were going through, as much as I sometimes wished I could. But I could lend you my ear, and I hope those conversations gave you something you needed. I know they gave something to me. And Mom — Virginia — I never had the chance to know you. You left this world before I even knew who you were. But somehow, after you were gone, two of your sons who had unknowingly lived so close to one another finally found each other. Sometimes I wonder if there was a reason it happened when it did. Maybe I came into Jim's life when he needed another brother and another ear to listen. Maybe Jim came into mine because I needed him to tell me about you. Through his stories and memories, you became more than a name, a photograph, or a branch on a family tree. Through Jim's eyes, you became my mother. Maybe that was the gift we were meant to give each other. Jim, I wish life had been gentler with you. I wish there had been something I could have done to take away more of your pain. There were parts of your journey that none of us could fix for you, no matter how much we may have wanted to. I will miss our talks. I'll miss talking about baseball, fishing and music. I'll miss those moments when I could hear the younger Jim come through your voice — the man you were before illness took so much from you. But as much as I will miss you, Brother Jim, I will not miss your pain. You once told me how much Warren Zevon's Keep Me in Your Heart meant to you. I understand that a little better today. I'll keep you in mine. Rest now, Brother Jim. Maybe somewhere Mom finally has both of her boys together and knows that, against some pretty incredible odds, we found each other before it was too late. And hopefully, this isn't goodbye forever. Until we meet again. Your brother, Mark"