Abraham Lincoln said, “In the end, it’s not the years in your life that count. It’s the life in your years.”
I asked for this chance to share some of my thoughts. Yet, he deserves so much more. I met Tim Costello 44 years ago when he first scrutinized my worthiness to spend time with Michele. You can imagine that, to a 15 year old, New Berlin east-ender, “Mr. Costello” took pride in putting the “Tim” in intimidate. Over the years, I moved from fearing him to respecting him to loving him.

We’re here to remember a life well lived. We all had a different relationship with him and each of us will remember him and mourn him in our personal ways. While gathering my thoughts today, I realized that I never called him Tim. Not once. Ever. I know it was because of the respect I held for him. To me he was always Mr. Costello, Michele’s dad, or Grandpa. And in that order, as the years accumulated and our relationship deepened. All respectful terms that he earned and deserved. I think he loved being called Grandpa most of all.

He’d be uncomfortable knowing I was talking about him like this but, in his own fashion, he’d expect me to do what I felt was right. What’s right is for me to share a few things I learned from him.

* I learned to be humble. Our family gave Tim a book about the WWII Native American Code Talkers which was autographed by several of the veterans. He used that opportunity to reinforce to me that the WWII soldiers were the real heroes. He was humble about the sacrifices he made during the Korean War and gave credit to those who served before him.
* I learned to be strong in character.
* I learned to love my family unconditionally.
* I learned to make hard decisions.
* I learned the value of working hard whether it’s with my hands or with my mind.
* I learned to be myself in all things.

Over more than four decades, I’ve felt honored to be included in Tim’s life. He trusted me to date and then marry one of his precious daughters. His encouragement, his advice, his confidence was always evident even though it may have gone unsaid. He was a man of movement and action who didn’t waste words, time, or energy. He made the best of any situation which is demonstrable proof to me that he was comfortable in his own skin. He was a philosopher whose wisdom was earned through experience, adversity, hard knocks, and an uncanny insight into human nature. If anyone took the time to know him, he provided many examples of how to work, how to live, and how to love. Tim Costello was a good man with a huge heart.

I wasn’t his son but I would have been proud to say I was. We’re all going to miss him in different ways. Me? I’m going to miss him making comments and then winking at me across the room. I’m going to miss him sitting in the front seat with me as we go to lunch and telling me how to drive. I’m going to miss his short comments about life, work, politics, baseball, cats, war, and society. Very simply, I’m going to miss him.

“If I have seen further, it is by standing on the shoulders of giants.” Michele’s dad, my father-in-law, my children’s Grandpa, is a giant to me. Someone to learn from, someone to respect, someone to miss.
There’s no way to encapsulate a life into a few minutes of memories. So, I’d ask you to remember Tim in your own way as you share stories about his personality, his humor, his family, his life.

Tim’s famous line has always been, “When things are too tough for everyone else, they’re just right for a Costello.” We would do well to claim that there’s a little Costello in all of us.