Uncle John with me as a baby, 1971
He was calm, cool, and easygoing.
He was the member of my family we would turn to for sound, sane advice, and a clear vision of what was going on in our lives.
He never raised his voice. He never lost his temper. Oh sure, he got angry a time or two, but if he did, I never saw him grow red in the face or take it out on anyone.
He was an eternal pessimist. Oh yes, he was. If his beloved Cubs were doing well, or on their way to winning it all, he’d be the first to say, “They’ll screw it up.” We’d scoff and say he’s just being negative again, but doggone it, he’d be right. The Cubs would mess up and we’d be crying in our handkerchiefs all over again. He may have been a pessimist, but he was almost always right about it.
He loved his family dearly. And we loved him.
And now he is gone. And we miss him terribly.
My Uncle, The Rev. John D. Aiello, died on July 15 after a relatively brief but nonetheless extremely brave battle with cancer. He was 70 years old.
School Portrait
Uncle John was my dad’s younger brother. The middle child of three, he was destined for the cloth at a fairly early age– after my dad finally gave up the dream himself. He entered the Seminary after graduating from grade school, and was ordained a Catholic priest in 1969. Shortly after his ordination, my grandfather, “Nanu” Louis Aiello, died; and never got to see his son say his first mass.
Over the years, Uncle John officiated at all family events– weddings, funerals, baptisms. It was a no-brainer– we always wanted him to do them, and he always accepted graciously.
Uncle John walking Beth down the aisle, 2002
He officiated both my cousin’s wedding in 2001 and my sister’s wedding in 2002, and, in a bit of a change of protocol, walked her down the aisle because my dad wasn’t able to do so. They met my dad at the front of the altar, and he, with his cane, walked her the rest of the way. It was a moving and touching moment for all of us, and one we will never forget.
Probably the most difficult thing he had to do was say the mass at Nana’s funeral. To this day, I don’t know how he did it. Perhaps it was because he loved her so much, and cared for her all the years she suffered. But whatever the reasons, he did it, and he got through it fine. I always thought he was so brave for doing that.
Uncle John says "hello," 1983
My fondest memories of Uncle John come from his visits on Thursday nights. Because he worked in Milwaukee or Racine (his choice– he never wanted to work in Kenosha), he would always make Thursdays his family “day off.” He had dinner with my Aunt and her family, and would come to our house afterward to spend time with our Dad and our family. After our dinner ended, we’d eagerly anticipate his arrival. And at around 7:00 every Thursday, he’d walk in the door. Peanut, our dog, would greet him at the door, and he’d give my sister and I big hugs and kisses and ask us, “What’s new?”
My sister reminded me that we would always ask him for gum. Uncle John always carried sticks of Wrigley’s Spearmint gum, and he was always willing to share. I also remember he’d give my sister a kiss hello and say, “Oooh that tastes like Sarsaparilla!” or “Hmmm, I think that’s cherry pie!” They were just silly things he’d do with us kids, and we loved it.
Uncle John had a wry, dry sense of humor. He was never one to be the “life of the party,” but every so often he’d just say a few words and have us all laughing so hard we’d start crying.
Uncle John was Nana’s main caretaker after her cancer surgery, and stayed by her side through seven painful years afterward. It was hard on all of us, but hardest on him, because he saw firsthand how much pain she was in. When Nana finally died, a part of Uncle John went with her.
Dad and Uncle John
My Dad’s death in 2006 was equally painful. Dad and Uncle John were inseparable as kids and as adults. They were brothers and best friends. In preparing photos for Uncle John’s funeral, I found countless shots of Dad and Uncle John sitting together, eating, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. That’s just what they did.
When the news came that Uncle John was sick with cancer, it was a shock to all of us. Throughout his life, he always seemed so healthy– why did this have to happen to him? It didn’t seem fair. He fought for as long as he could against it– trying different kinds of treatment and new, innovative strategies to stop the spread, but eventually nothing worked, and he decided to let nature take its course.
Uncle John with Emily and Abby
He did get to meet and spend time with my nieces, Abby and Emily, a few times before he was too ill to do so. I’m glad he did that, and I’m glad they met him. They never got a chance to meet their Grandpa. I’m sure Uncle John have great things to say about them when he sees Dad again.
My last conversation with him occurred at the funeral of another cousin, late last year. He was walking slowly, with a cane, but still getting around okay. We sat together and had a long talk about life, things that we’ve experienced, and how he was doing. I didn’t know at the time that this would be our last real talk; but it’s one I will treasure and remember for the rest of my life.
On Thursday and Friday of this week, our family will gather to say farewell to Uncle John, with hundreds of others who will come to say farewell to “Father John.” That’s the one thing I always admired about my Uncle. He was a man of great spirit and faith, but when he was with family, he was never “Father John.” He was “Uncle John,” from the day I was born to the day he died. His faith and spirituality was always a part of him, but he made sure to keep it separate from his family life. He loved us unconditionally. And that was never in doubt.
