Eric William Small

Clichés do not apply to Eric Small's death. He did not die doing something he loved. He was not out at Pine Point running with Bishop and Tucker, throwing a chewed-up tennis ball to his beloved retrievers. He was not attending a play with his mother and sister, he was not swimming in his pool with his nieces and nephews, he was not grilling steak tips, hot dogs, or chicken for any and all summer visitors, he was not handing out popsicles on an 89 degree day, he was not expounding knowledgeably on a wide array of subjects with family and friends, he was not challenging his mother nightly to Wheel of Fortune, he was not wandering around his yard trying to figure out which project to tackle next, he was not performing a benevolent feat for a neighbor, he was not attending family reunions in Skowhegan, he was not jumping out of a plane from 13,000 feet above the earth, he was not driving a golf ball prodigious distances and missing three foot putts, he was not treating his brother and sister to a movie, he was not stuffing ice cubes into a giant glass filled with milk, he was not fashioning lobster rolls to deliver to family and friends, he was not cutting his hair without a mirror, he was not on a Broadway stage acting out a dream, he was not hosting birthday parties for his nieces and nephews, he was not boisterously telling stories with that omnipresent smile, he was not doing any of those things.

No, Eric Small did not die doing something he loved, rather he died laying in a hospital bed in his mother's living room receiving regular doses of morphine. He died intermittently aware of the comings and goings of visitors, family, friends, and relatives. There to see him one last time, to offer small words of love and thanks and encouragement, there to let him know that yes, we love you and yes, you were an important man to us, a good man, a man we all wanted one more day with. Well, we did not get that day. Nor did Eric. He has passed. Cancer diagnosis. Gone within weeks. Fifty-four years old. One cliché that does apply: far too young.

Eric Small leaves behind holes that will remain empty, cracks that will never be filled, bridges that will never be built, lights that will remain dim, and tears that will stream down faces for years to come. He also leaves us with the myriad memories of untold selfless acts of kindness. Eric fashioned a life centered around assisting those he loved. He was the neighborhood handyman who performed odd jobs at a moment's notice, shoveling snow, meticulously mowing lawns and tending gardens, painting, building, repairing, chatting and smiling while proffering a loyalty that is increasingly rare. He was the uncle who maintained a clear clean swimming pool for his nieces and nephews and anyone else needing to cool off on a sweltering summer day, who never missed their performances, musicals, recitals, ballgames, event of any kind, who invariably remembered multiple birthdays and bestowed unusual unique gifts, who babysat at a moment's notice many times, who always kept treats in his refrigerator, who was a skier, a skater, a card player, a revered figure to his six nieces and two nephews. He was the brother who was unfailingly there for his sister and brothers, good times, bad times, fun times, sad times, who helped build things for his brother's Massachusetts home, staying for days at a time when he had to, and who cared daily for his brother Craig. He was the son who worked with his father on many projects side by side, hand by hand, sometimes laughing and joking, other times holding in his words, completely at odds with his father's painstakingly accurate ways. He was the son who became the rock for his mother to lean on when her husband died, drinking coffee with her each morning, watching Jeopardy in the evening, sharing meals with her regularly, ensuring her window view included bright blooming gardens, and providing her with daily security and serenity. He was the friend who without hesitation lent out anything he owned whenever it was needed, regaled people with his tales of living in New York City, bonded with fellow canine lovers, and never uttered the word "no" to those in need. For years to come, a simple picture of Eric and that smile will release torrents of beautiful memories and tears of sadness because we all occasionally have somewhere to turn but now we have nowhere to go. Eric was the destination we had in common for so many years.

Eric Small was born in South Portland on July 19, 1962 to Howard and Patricia Small. He graduated from South Portland High School in 1981. He is predeceased by his father Howard and survived by his mother Patricia, his brothers, Craig & Kirk, his sister Kristin (Johnson), his sister-in-law Amy and brother-in-law Sam, and nieces and nephews Jessica, Madison, Max, Delaney, Cassidy, Grace, William & Anna.

Services will be held on Saturday, January 14th at 10:00 at St Ann's Episcopal Church, 40 Windham Center Road, Windham. In lieu of flowers, Eric requested that donations be made to Hospice of Southern Maine (180 US Route 1, Scarborough, ME 04074) or to St Ann's Church in Windham (40 Windham Center Rd., Windham, ME 04062).