He Never Became Bitter

After decades of unimaginable loss and hardship, my Uncle Mitchell still moves through life with grace

My mom (left) with Uncle Mitchell, her older brother, and my mom’s dog, Ellie Mae

Hey friends,

My uncle Mitchell needs some love—it’s been an incredibly tough stretch for him—so I want to tell you a little about him.

Thinking about all he’s been through brings tears to my eyes.

Born in 1950 in Cherry Hill, New Jersey...he’s a guy who can fly a plane, sail a boat, play the organ, and fix cars, houses, engines…and do plumbing, electrical, drywall, paint, wiring, boats, almost anything. He’s a mechanic, carpenter, electrician, welder, plumber, painter, sewer. He can build from blueprints. The kind of old-school capable person who makes you wonder if there is anything he can’t do.

He’s the person you call when something breaks, and somehow he figures it out without YouTube, AI, or manuals. It’s all intuition.

And beyond all that, he has always been a caretaker.

He took care of his parents, his first wife, Lynn, and his second wife, Gayer, standing beside her through years of difficult mental illness and so many trials. He loves dogs and cats, too, and is such a caring person at his core.

What stands out most is how many people he has helped over the years. Renovations at below-market cost because someone was struggling. Fixing a car for a woman he met at a South Jersey Wawa who was down to her last nickel, refusing to charge her anything. Dropping everything to help people whenever they needed him. Mitchell shows his love by doing things for others.

Life has not been easy on him. He lost his mom to cancer as a teenager. Then later, his dad died of cancer. Then his first wife died of the same breast cancer that took his mother far too soon. And recently, he lost his second wife in what he described as the hardest four days of his life. He’s had other tough breaks, including being burned years ago by a financial guy and issues around his pension. More heartbreak and hardship than most people should have to carry.

But Mitchell has never become bitter. He has always been zen in his own way. He flows with life, even when life gave him every reason to complain. He has always had a softness to him, a calmness, a good way about him... even while caring for his late wife, Gayer, in her final years. That role was a full-time job and all-consuming.

Uncle Mitchell has shown up for me, too. Mitchell was at my high school graduation and my college graduation. Years later, he picked up the most meaningful thing I’ve ever bought, Ally’s engagement ring, and brought it to me from Philadelphia to a pizza shop in New Jersey before we flew to Italy and got engaged a few days later. That meant a lot to me. He also helped fix up our van before our cross-country trek.

Perhaps above all, Mitchell and I have called each other every week for the better part of 10 years, and I cherish those calls. Conversations about life, family, boats, engines, problems, food, memories, and whatever else happened to be on our minds that day. Those calls have become one of the constants of my adult life, and I will always be grateful for them.

A great guy and a wonderful man. Go Mitchell.

Celebrate your people,

Matthew