Condolence From Anna Salvatore

Wed, 12 Sep 2018 18:37:15 EDT

Dear Karen, Kerry, Kristi and family, Sorry we missed dad's service. My thoughts and prayers are with all of you. Sincerely, Anna Salvatore

Condolence From Rosanne Little

Wed, 12 Sep 2018 11:38:52 EDT

Dear Karen, Kerry, Kristi and family, I am so very sorry to hear about your dad's passing and feel especially heartbroken that I missed his service at Clayton. Mom and I passed mom's old house yesterday and noticed cabinets at the curb of your dad's house and knew something wasn't right. Sure enough, after checking Clayton's website, the sad news was confirmed. I told my mom and of course she was very upset. Please know that our thoughts and prayers are with all of you. I remember your dad as a gentleman who would give me a little wave and respectful nod from across the street whenever I visited mom at "58". Your dad's passing brings my own grief back in waves of my own dad's passing. Just know I can feel your pain and grief and am praying for all of you......it's been 10 years for dad already, but still brings me to tears at the most unexpected times. With love and prayers, Rosanne Little and family

Story shared: Poppy’s (aka Patty Smith) Eulogy

Wed, 08 Aug 2018 19:47:30 EDT

For those of you who may have missed my tribute to my grandfather Patrick Smith this past Saturday, please take a moment to read the story of the humble man within the hard shell. It's a story of transformation that can give us all faith that it's never too late to open a heart, broaden a mind, and build a relationship. Even those of you who may have known this amazing man may learn a thing or two about the truth of his story. Rest in peace Poppy 7/29/31- 8/4/18 Id always said Id speak on my grandfathers behalf when this day came. Its felt like the right thing to do. I must say though, its a heck of a lot easier to say than to do once reality has set in. Ill be honest, I tried to start writing this out early, I figured Id try to one up reality, especially knowing the puddle of emotional mess I tend to be. I kept attempting in broken pieces with an array of different colored pens over the course of several days. I didnt get very far. Instead, I found myself parked up on Poppys porch this morning, sitting in his spot with one of his ice cold Heinekens, piecing my words together. For anyone that might not know me, Im Kourtney, Patricks oldest and favorite grandchild. I come void of pompousness in proclaiming my status as favorite. Its been a laughable understanding amongst us 7 grandchildren. When Poppy met me NEARLY 30 years ago, before he was even a Poppy, he fell in love with me. On the morning that he passed, I actually asked my mother what he was like when I was born. She told me how this oh-so-frugal man ran out to purchase a camcorder, a VERY big purchase back in 1988, so he could capture my entrance in the world. This hard man smiled and softened, and from then on I called him my Poppy. I spent the first 8 years of my life living with my grandparents and then continued weekend sleepovers long beyond moving out. While my time there may have centered around my Nanny, Poppy always came through with Saturday morning bagels and Sunday morning bakery rolls and pastries. So long as I added it to the list Saturday night, Poppy would get whatever my heart desired. His love only grew stronger as I started traveling the world. Kaylee once had us in a fit of laughter as she told me I was literally in the middle of talking about myself and Poppy goes Hows Kourtney? Whens Kourtney coming home? AS IF he didnt know. If his mind ever seemed in question, youd just ask what day I was coming or going and hed be armed and ready. There was never a trip I returned from that didnt have Poppy sitting and waiting on the side of the house. Whether he knew the time or not, hes be there waiting. There were two major versions of my grandfather that I got to witness during my time here, Poppy and Poppy 2.0. Now dont get me wrong, I know theres many more layers to my grandfather, stories and memories far beyond my reach. I want to send a special thank you to all who have warmed my heart with their personal stories over the last few weeks. But now let me tell you a little about the Poppy Ive known all these years. Poppy was a mans man who ended up with a family full of females. He was a hardworking man, who busted his butt mixing cement, laying bricks, weeding, and mowing the lawn from the crack dawn, pressing pause briefly for Heinekens and ham sandwiches fixed by Nanny. He was a sight for sore eyes, granddad bod glistening with sweat and T-shirt wrapped around his head like a brick-laying ninja. I watched in amazement as he willingly chewed each bite of that ham sandwich 32 times, as he did with everything he ate, a feat Nanny and I found preposterous, leaving us left with nothing but saliva sloshing by bite 12. Beyond the bricklaying, youd most often find Poppy throwing em back at the firehouse or legion. He was a man of few words. At family gatherings, youd find him stationed at the head of the table with a plate full of Poppy particular food, none of the TURKEY sausage nonsense at least not to HIS knowledge. Hed sit there with his 32 chews, occasionally muttering an infamous Smith HMPH in response to the high volume, passionate bickering, and *occasional* cussing that comes with our family gatherings. Once his plate sat empty and his single solitary ever-so-slightly dirtied napkin dusted away the crumbs and was set down folded neatly, Nanny would cue me Kourtney go turn on the TV for your grandfather. I played a trivial role during my years growing up at 59 Washington Drive. I was in charge of working the remote control for my grandfather as he not-so-politely excused himself from our family functions to go sit by himself in what was deemed The TV Room. This clever name came from it being Poppys place to disappear from everyone to go watch M*A*S*H or go scream at the Giants. Now despite NOT wanting to be around the family during our holiday functions and celebrations, we were NEVER allowed to tell Poppy where we were going. Going for a walk to 7-11? Dont tell Poppy! A trip to the city? Dont tell Poppy! Missing Sunday mass? Dont you DARE tell Poppy! Nanny was firm, no one was ever allowed to worry Poppy. He may have been disconnected from all of us, he may have come with a hard shell, but deep within the layers he did care. And then on September 1, 2005 everything changed. Our Nanny was called up to heaven earlier than any of us were ready to deal with, but not before mumbling girls take care of your father to my mother and aunts. And just like that, the epicenter of our family was gone there was only a Poppy left and suddenly the TV room was a little too removed, too disconnected, and so Poppy 2.0 emerged. The transformation that occurred in the years that followed Nannys passing was unfathomable to us all. To see a man so set in his ways, so firm in his beliefs, so consumed by his routines, evolve into the man he left this world as, is a story that can give us all a little hope and faith. The man that once drowned out the noise of his family with the noise of the television, started ringing the phone lines nonstop, Uh I was just calling to check in. Hed spend his evenings rotating around our houses for meals, never failing to show up without a bottle of Diet Dr. Pepper and a cold beer. Youd have to beg him to not show up half an hour early and yet he would EVERY. SINGLE. TIME. He became the man wed peep slowly creeping around the corner in his big red truck just to pass by and see if anyone was home. I have to apologize Poppy, but the phrase What the heck is Poppy doing here?! may have been shouted through the house a few times. Poppy 2.0 wanted nothing more than to be with his family. Now dont get me wrong, the Smith stares and HMPHs were dished out just the same for loudness, arguments and foul language, but hed never trade it for an episode of M*A*S*H. The last 13 years gave Poppy a chance to be a part of the family, to build relationships, and to share stories of fraternities, war, and travel. This man whose lips had been sealed for so long began sharing stories that left my eyes wide and jaw on the floor. Whats more is that he loved sharing and so I kept asking and little by little 13 years of Poppy 2.0 filled the gap he once had with his family. Beyond his own family, the small-minded ignorance that once clouded Poppys judgments of people was traded in for openness, understanding, and acceptance, as he opened his home to aides from countries around the world. He traded Marines stories for stories of growing up in Ghana with these aides who quickly became a part of our family. Poppy fought like a beast. Id say he wasnt willing to give up without a fight but thats a blasphemous understatement. Poppy wasnt giving up without a war. He endured a relentless game of musical beds bouncing between hospital floors and rehab rooms for weeks on end. He put up with more C-R-A-P than anyone should during their final chapter of life. He spent his 87th birthday ready to karate chop me for coming towards him with yet another lemon mouth swab. He was exhausted with being poked and prodded, unable to convey what he needed. Had he the energy, Im sure a few Smith stares shot towards those shouting as if he couldnt hear after all, the hearing is the last to go. For those of you that may not know, the Smith stare is a piercing look where the eyes close down a bit. Not in a squint though, still open enough to convey the message dont mess, dont even, dont dare! The lips close tightly because theres nothing to be said, the Smith stare says it all. Youre all mighty lucky to not be getting one from him tonight! Poppy wasnt ready to leave us, he told our guilt-ridden family how terrified he was of dying. Despite the pain, discomfort, and never-ending hospital beeping, he kept on fighting, holding out for something. Well never be able to say for certain what that something was. Perhaps it was for each of us to whisper that it was okay to move on or perhaps it was moving to a peaceful, comfortable bed in hospice. Maybe it was waiting for a blessing from Father Henry, a young priest Poppys brother brought from India. Or really maybe Poppy just needed to know that the lawn guys were paid, bills taken care of, and lotto numbers played. No matter what it was, Poppy made peace with joining Aunt Janet, Uncle Hughie, Aunt Mary, Uncle Thomas, Aunt Kathleen, their parents Thomas and Mary, and our beloved Nanny. So as we all wish Poppy, Paddy, Uncle Lum, Lummy, Mr. Smith, or simply Patrick well in his next chapter of life, instead of the broken record of Im sorry for your loss, pop off the cap of an ice cold Heineken in his honor. If youre looking for an extra zing for the taste buds, stir up a heavy-handed Rob Roy topped with an extra maraschino cherry or two. And for those of you that dont drink? Be sure to mutter a good ol Paddy HMPH the next time you see some brick work, for it COULD never and WILL never be as good as his.

Photo shared: A492EB46-7B8F-445E-82C6-199761B12A17.jpeg

Wed, 08 Aug 2018 19:45:21 EDT

Condolence From Aunt Rose, Uncle Joe and Family

Mon, 06 Aug 2018 17:49:51 EDT

Dear Karen and Family, We were sorry to hear about the Passing of your Dad. We will keep you all in our Thoughts and Prayers. Take care. Love, Aunt Rose, Uncle Joe and Family

Photo shared: Patrick Smith.JPG

Sun, 05 Aug 2018 03:22:10 EDT

Photo shared: Patrick Smith2 (2).JPG