Jerry Brosnahan (born Jeremiah Joseph Patrick) passed away suddenly August 6, 2012, in his home in Brookfield, CT, at the age of 60.
Jerr and I spent the last 10 years of his life together. Even though I live in Canada and he in the USA, he always said we had a closer and better relationship than most married couples already together. When apart, we talked every single day.
In April 2007, my darling Jerr asked me to marry him and, for the first time in my life, at 55, I knew I had found the man I had always searched for, so happily I said yes. This was on the phone but he promised next time I was there he would buy the ring and go down on his knee, which he did.
As life sometimes does, events happened that we were not able to set a date to plan the wedding — family deaths and illnesses on my side, loss of his job and the depressed housing market on his side. So, as I had for the prior 5 years, I found time to get down to him as often as I could, every time bringing new things for the home or interesting foodstuffs that we can get in Montreal, but not in good old Brookfield. I loved being able to make his life happier in this way and it was always an adventure for us to open up my bags on arrival... he said it was like Christmas all year!
He always said, “Hon, you have turned this house into our home and when you are away, all I have to do is look around and I see you in every room in the home which comforts me until you can come back... I love you more than I have ever loved anyone.”
Jerr was a good, hardworking man, who loved collecting model cars, especially muscle cars. He could tell you when a bumper design, or a light fixture, or anything was changed on a certain car from one year to the next — the only one he could never find was the 1970 Duster. I spent many hours online searching for it for him. He had hundreds of models and “tweaked” each and every one. He did not just collect them, he redid them in his own incredible way... I often told him he could make a living at it. He wanted to donate them to a boys club before moving up to Canada this year to get married
Jerr told me often that he had never felt loved before in his life and that was all he wanted, was to feel loved and happy. Even though he is gone, I can take some comfort in knowing that I was able to show him for 10 years how very much he deserved to be, and was, truly loved.
In tribute to him, I hope all who read this will know him a bit better, mourn the loss of a good man, and learn the lesson to go where your heart takes you… do not hesitate, do not allow anything to interfere with doing what you need to in order to be happy... move mountains if you have to. Life is short and God wills us to be happy. So please, love life, love each other, and be happy.
I will miss you the rest of my life, Jerr.
Your loving fiancée, Cheryl