Philip was a dreamer, big was not big enough for him. Extremely driven and a conqueror. He was bigger than life.

My husband and I met in 2003, through the internet. Fresh off the airplane this guy caught my attention and so did I in his eyes. A Greek god he called himself … hmmm … I loved him instantly. Then the day he told me he had fallen in love with me, OMG!! … I did too. Pregnancy, marriage, house, kids …12 years were not enough … a wrestling tournament in PA our demise … why oh why did you go … we shared the disease, as I suffered it too, but it is not even, it picks carefully who it will kill … and it was not me … March 8th positive, March 18 intubated, March 25th ECMO, April 24th death … May 5th, that day my white wedding dress became black … and my anguish to run away from the pain began.

12 years were not enough: your mom, your sister, your wife (me), your children, family and friends — we will never take breathing for granted again.

I love you, you will always be unconditionally loved …
Your one and only, your wife … :'(

My mom lost her left arm in freak gun accident when she was 7 years old. She spent 6 months in a children’s rehab hospital learning how to use an artificial arm. My grandmother was determined that my mom would never let my mom feel sorry for herself and that she would be able to accomplish anything that she wanted to. She rode and showed horses. She drove a stick shift car (it was all they had when she was 16). She loved being outdoors and had a gift with plants and flowers. She was also an avid exerciser and loved to swim She was an amazing mother — even though she worked full time, she never missed any activity that me or my brother were involved in — she was the very definition of a super mom. She never let her status as an amputee define her.

She was also very blunt and had a biting sense of humor (if you were not prepared to hear the absolute truth, you should never have asked for her opinion). She was an amazing story teller and some of her best stories happened to involve being an amputee.

Her favorite story was from one of our family vacations to the Gulf Coast of Florida. My mom used a different artificial arm when she would swim. It did not have straps on it because she did not want to have tan lines (yes, she was a little vain too). She was floating on her stomach on a raft in the ocean and she fell asleep. A wave woke her with a start and her artificial arm fell off into the ocean. Panicked, she jumped off the float and started searching for it (artificial limbs are VERY expensive and are not fully covered by insurance). A kind lady noticed my mom walking in circles and asked if she needed help. My mom explained what had happened and the lady began helping my mom with the search. Around 10 minutes later, the kind lady reached down into the water and pulled out my mom’s artificial arm and exclaimed loudly, “Is this your arm?!?” The way my mom described the story, it was as if the lady was clarifying that this was actually my mom’s arm because there were all these other artificial arms floating around the Gulf of Mexico which of course is silly to say the least. My mom started laughing and said, “Yes, that particular arm is mine, thank you.”

She told that story many times over the years and no matter how many times I heard it, it was always funny (her delivery was the best). My mom always had a way of looking on the bright side of everything. Whenever she would go through security at an airport, her arm would always set off the alarm. She would always say, “Yes, I am armed.” The security folks would always laugh. One time, she went through security and a pilot that was a double arm amputee set off the alarm right behind her and she “high fived” him and everyone around us in the security line started laughing.

She over came so much in her life; she was an amazing person. She was truly one of a kind and I miss her so much.

Our mother June, though often donned in holiday-themed sweaters and polyester stretch pants, was progressive in the ways that mattered. She adopted me and my sister in the early 1960’s when it was not part of the mainstream. She let me cut my long locks so that I could have a shag like David Cassidy from the Partridge Family when I was in 3rd grade. She finally got pregnant when she was 39 with our brother and this was viewed as high risk for that time (1970). She helped me pick out vests and ties from my father’s closet so I could wear suits in Junior High. She accompanied one of us in our teens to get an abortion. She didn’t bat an eye when I came out as a lesbian shortly after my father died (1992) and embraced the interracial partnership that I was in for 14 years. She was there for each of us as we navigated and ended painful, abusive marriages – two of which ended in divorce and child custody battles. We watched her thrive after her husband died suddenly at age 63 – an active alcoholic and Korean war vet who held her back in many ways. Mom would go on to travel abroad, to join multiple community groups – one of her favorites being the Red Hats. She felt strongly about the state of the country and much like me, had a great disdain for Trump supporters. One of my favorite memories about this was her giving the middle finger to the woman’s car with all the pro-life and Trump stickers; mom would tickle herself and let me know that she also did it when I wasn’t visiting! She was also a proud Philadelphia Eagles fan, wearing a team shirt every time they played and believing she had the power to impact the outcome, depending on which shirt she wore! She also loved debriefing at half time or at the end of the game and stating who should be left go or fired. She was full of life, generous in Spirit, mischievous and the quintessential badass for her time. We miss her EVERY. SINGLE. DAY.

Our memories flood my mind day and night none stop …
Disbelief washes over my thoughts and I just say “no it’s not possible” over and over …
Tears flood my eyes and pour down my face …
I get angry … angry that all this is happening …
My dad … my dad is gone and I refuse to accept it …
He is my best friend … how? How do I go on without him??
It feels like a heavy weight is on my chest and my heart hurts … it literally hurts … it’s like he took apart of it with him …
I talk and pray to him out loud …
I picture his lifeless body over and over … it looks like he is just sleeping … I just want him to wake up …
I wish I could see him again and give him the biggest hug like I always did …
My dad wasn’t an emotional person … but I like to think I knew him better than most …
I’ve always been worried about him even when I didn’t have to be … that’s just what I do …
I can still hear his voice, smell his scent … feel his hugs, feel his hand in mind,etc …
I’ve had many years to study this man and I know it’s not true but it feels like I’m the only one in this world that is feeling this pain … like I’m the only one who lost a father … COVID-19 stole one of my prize possessions … September 10, 2021 is a stained day … the day my world shattered …

Tracie and I met online (not intending to). We started talking and one thing lead to another, and I moved down to Virginia to be with her in 2004. We got married in 2006, and stayed married until her passing on June 24, 2020. We did everything together. We both love and watched hockey games together. She caught Covid from me. After she went to the hospital, she passed not even 24 hours later. She was and always will be my everything.