Cousin Joe

It's been a week since we said goodbye to Cousin Joe and the Cirucci Family still grieves.
Some people seem to shrink and wither away as they get older.
But Joe Cirucci was always big. Always.
He was physically big to begin with. But in my eyes he actually seemed to grow in stature as he got older.
When he walked into a room you knew that someone of significance had arrived: someone uniquely human, someone worthy, someone real.
To look into Joe’s deep, dark eyes was to look into the depths of his mighty heart.
He was a man who was very comfortable in his manliness – so comfortable that he was never afraid to show his feelings. And yes, he cried openly, without any hesitation when warranted.
But no one ever mistook his tenderness for weakness or naivete. For he was not a somber man nor was he one who was easily fooled.
He knew who he was and was comfortable with himself: proud of his heritage, his name, and his family. Proud, yes - but never insufferably boastful.
And he laughed easily (as much at himself as others) and told wonderful stories.
His affairs were in order. His priorities were right. And his priorities always began with his family. For him, love of family was as natural as breathing. It was who he was – a natural extension of himself.
The last time I saw Joe it was on a happy occasion and he was surrounded by his family and full of love. That was fitting.
Joe’s naturalness, his realness, the depth of his heart and the richness of his soul made him stand out.
These things made him big. Truly big. Always, big!