His Memory Continues On

Artie with my youngest son Joseph in 1988. Artie is Joseph's godfather.

My brother died nine years ago at the age of 32 years old. His death took our family by surprise because he was so very young. His death was as simple as going to sleep one night on his Living Room sofa and never waking up. I recently had a dream about him. In my dream he was very much alive and I remember telling him how great he looked. He was tall and lean and very very happy. I wish this was true the night he left us. When Artie died, he was very over weight and was not very happy. He suffered from sleep apena and that night when he went to sleep on that sofa, he had a heart attack and never woke up.

Arthur Louis Maier was the fourth child of Arthur and Mary (Gallagher) Maier born May 1st, 1965 and like all the other children in this family was born at Roxborough hospital. He was five years my junior so he really was not much of a childhood playmate to me. My older brother Michael was my childhood playmate since Michael was only two years my senior. Arthur was my younger sister Marianne's childhood playmate being that they were only 16 months apart in age.

Artie was a very cute and extroverted child who spoke to everyone everywhere anytime. As a teenager then a young adult he was the nicest person you would ever want to be around and when he became an uncle, there was not a better uncle around. He often took my children out or just came over to simply play with them. My boys adored him and their little faces glowed like the sun in the brightest summer day when Artie walked into the house.

He was also a very loving and devoted brother.

When he married Ann, they wanted to start a family immediately but this was more difficult than they expected and it was not until after several miscarriages that their dream came true when their son Arthur Louis Maier III was born. I remember thinking at the time that if anyone ever wanted or deserved to be a Daddy it was my brother because he loved and adored children. This entrance into Fatherhood did not last long because he would die thus leave his son less than two years later.

The lost of Arthur has created a large void in my family's life. It has been nine years since his death. His son Arthur will be 11 years old this August and probably does not remember his father. He will only know his father through the memories of others. When you think about it it really does seem unfair.

Generally I have a great memory for dates but every since Artie's death I seem to not always remember the exact date he died. It is weird because I remember each and every detail of that Sunday morning when I received that horrible phone call from my sister when she told me Artie died. I became a robot after that call. I remember mindlessly getting into the car driving to Artie's In-laws to break the news in person to Ann that her husband was dead. Then I got back into the car and drove to Artie's house. When I got there my brother Michael who was on duty at the time (he was a cop) and my sister Marianne were already there. I was taken back when I saw Artie on the sofa. He appeared to be asleep. He was on his side with his head resting upon his arm. He looked so peaceful.

The three of us stayed with him until the funeral director came. We waited until he was taken away to the funeral home before we closed up the house, took his dog and left. Further details about that day's events would be retold later that day at Marianne's house where we all congregated together to grieve. My brother Michael was on duty when a call came in that a body was found dead in a house. When the address was given over the police radio, My brother realized it was his brother's house and called in that he was going over there. Michael entered the house and discovered Artie's body. He knew from examining him that Arthur had died hours ago. Then there was the heart renching story of my parents. They lived down the shore at the time. Marianne gave the news to my mother who was home alone at the time. My father was out at the store. My mother called her neighbor to come stay with her until my father's return. When he walked into the door and saw his neighbor and my mother's face, he knew something was terribly wrong. Several times on their drive up to Philadelphia my father broke down and had to pull onto the side of the road. It was the drive from hell. I personally do not know how they made it.

They went directly to the funeral home and asked my brother Frankie to be there for support. The funeral director did not want them to see Artie but my mother insisted as any strong minded Irish mother would do. I cannot imagine the agony they felt when they first saw him lying on that table. My heart aches just writing this nine years later.

The days that followed are a blur. He was laid to rest in Our Lady of Grace cemetery in a family plot. The same cemetery my grandparents William and Anna Gallagher were interred in.

For the longest time I could not cry. Then one day while visiting Artie's grave I broke down and sobbed my heart out. All the feelings and all the tears that I never allowed to surface came flowing out all at once. My brother was dead. He was gone. He will always be in my heart forever.