Dance all night

"I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night... " Bye Bye Birdie

My Uncle Joe. Joe DelGatto to be exact. No, I'm not related by blood to a feisty Italian Catholic. Our bond was deeper than that.

I last saw Joe two weeks ago after getting a phone call from him that the he was not longer a candidate for a new Parkinson's treatment, due to Cancer found in his brain. With the two diseases ravaging his body, he wasn't sure how much time he had left. So I got in the car and made the same pilgrimage he made 3 years ago...

He left his rent controlled apartment in New York City (in the Upper West 60's, mind you) and, despite his declining health via Parkinsons, he went to the city of his youth, Rochester, NY to visit his ailing mother. Her Alzeimers was steadily worsening and he went there to help her (and relieve his siblings). Sadly, he never returned to the city he loved so much.

Joe, the son of immigrant parents, grew up in Rochester, NY in the heavily settled Italian section of Manchester, NY. He was the first and only member of his family to attend college and leave the area and his Mother and Father could not have been more proud of him. She told him regularly that he was her favorite - probably not the best move with 2 other sons in the house, but she told it the way she saw it. And he was everyone's favorite...not just hers.

Joe began a successful career, moved to New York and while a marriage didn't last, his love affair with the city never waned. I don't know anyone more appreciative of New York, than Joe. Every night of the week, he would attend a concert at Carnegie Hall or an Opera, a reading at the 92nd street Y or Shakespeare in the park. He took full advantage of the food, art, culture and people around him and drank it all in.

Joe was a catalyst in the the success of my parents relationship. My mother met him at 17, my father at 22 - Joe was the driving force behind their move to Ohio - for my mother to become a Principal Dancer with Cleveland Ballet and for my Father to do his Residency at Case-Western.

Joe was always like that... caring, kind and compassionate - whether he knew you for 30 seconds or 30 years.

Joe was a part of my family before I even entered the world and when I finally did make an appearance, he was one of the first to welcome me. While it may sound cruel to my loving parents, my earliest memories are not of my mother, father or sister, but instead of my Uncle Joe. He would put on music and we would dance around the living room. I remember the feeling of his soft, curly gray hair in my hands as a child...the hair that felt the same when I last touched it 2 weeks ago. I remember the feeling of him scooping me up and putting me on his shoulders while ice-skating. I remember spending hours searching for the perfect Fall leaves...and rating them on a 1-5 scale.

For years, when moving books, I'd open them, only to have pressed leaves fall out of the pages.

Not a single holiday, birthday, chorus concert, musical or riding competition was missed. Joe was a part of my Batzmitvah ceremony and celebration, my travel companion thru Spain as a teenager. He was my opera buddy and the one that would always take me to Il Vagabondo in the city where we'd order Spaghetti and Meatballs (even though it wasn't on the menu) and watch the old men play Bocci.

Joe was always there - I'd save mementos for the times he was away - individual truffle boxes from Teuscher chocolatier - the card from flowers sent for my birthday - and the advice he would leave me to figure out as homework.

Joe was the man in my life for many years. He was the one I was close to, especially before my Father and I bonded. He was the one that encouraged me and retained interest in my activities - my business, my racing and every adventure in between.

Two weeks ago, I said goodbye to my friend. While everyone around us was moping and writing him off, I chose to take his mind off his ailments. He lit up and we talked for hours straight. I hugged him and kissed him and told him how much I love him. I told him what an incredible force he's been in my life and that I am me, because of him. I told him I would forever find beauty in the simple, because of him. I told him I will always strive to love and live better, because of him. Some part of me knew I wouldn't see him again, but I found comfort then and I found comfort this morning when the call came: My last words to him were, 'I love you'.

As I went to leave, he smiled and reminded me to save a dance for him at my wedding.