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saffronhareMy great-uncle Francis Costello finally let go of this world last night. He was my grandmother's big brother, and the patriarch on my mother's side of the family, though he'd never admit it.
Fifty years ago, he loved and supported his gay son. Thirty years ago, he helped his daughter obtain a divorce from the huband who beat her...then gave her away at her second marriage (even though it wasn't a Catholic wedding). Fifteen years ago, he just as thrilled with my rifle marksmanship as he had been with my ballet apprenticeship. Ten years ago, he underwent heart sold his house to move into the supported living facility to be with his wife. Five years ago, he buried her.
Uncle Francis taught me how to put a worm on a fish hook and then never required me to do it again. He stood in as a surrogate grandfather after mine died early in my life. He held my daughter on his knee and taught her dirty words in Gaelic. He was the only one who dared to call my late grandmother "old gloom and doom." He was shorter than me the last time I saw him.
We all joked that he'd had himself pickled so he could stick around and watch over everyone forever. When the Red Sox finally won the World Series, we figured it wouldn't be long.
A toast to you, Francis. Rest well. You've earned it.
Fifty years ago, he loved and supported his gay son. Thirty years ago, he helped his daughter obtain a divorce from the huband who beat her...then gave her away at her second marriage (even though it wasn't a Catholic wedding). Fifteen years ago, he just as thrilled with my rifle marksmanship as he had been with my ballet apprenticeship. Ten years ago, he underwent heart sold his house to move into the supported living facility to be with his wife. Five years ago, he buried her.
Uncle Francis taught me how to put a worm on a fish hook and then never required me to do it again. He stood in as a surrogate grandfather after mine died early in my life. He held my daughter on his knee and taught her dirty words in Gaelic. He was the only one who dared to call my late grandmother "old gloom and doom." He was shorter than me the last time I saw him.
We all joked that he'd had himself pickled so he could stick around and watch over everyone forever. When the Red Sox finally won the World Series, we figured it wouldn't be long.
A toast to you, Francis. Rest well. You've earned it.
