Obituary of Patrick James Spencer

     Patrick James Spencer was a man with a giant heart, who loved his family unconditionally.  Growing up in Lexington, Massachusetts, he was an avid sports player and fan, and a long-time fixture of the Hayden Recreation Centre, working as a camp counselor and a basketball coach for a boy’s travel team in the late 1970s and early 1980s.

     A man with great wit, Patrick found humor in even the smallest of life’s details and had a way of putting into words the thought everyone was thinking in a kind, humorous, and concise way.  He loved watching and keeping score of March Madness basketball, cheering on Notre Dame football, Providence College basketball, and the New England Patriots.  He loved rototilling in his garden and canning his homemade tomato sauce.  He loved a good mystery audiobook or classic radio show to listen on his drive to work (and he loved solving the mystery before the characters in the story would).  He was a huge music lover, particularly of one-hit wonders and easy listening music.  But, above all, he loved his wife and children. 

     A 1981 graduate of Bentley College (now Bentley University), Patrick worked as an accountant for Minuteman Regional High School, where he met his wife, Denise. He was currently working as the School Business Administrator at Old Rochester Regional School District.

     Patrick passed away on October 1, 2018, at the age of 59. Patrick was the beloved husband of Denise (Bramanti).  He was the loving and proud father of Theresa of Billerica, Anthony of Pelham, NH and Phillip of Billerica.  Son of the late Robert and Helenann Spencer.  Brother of Matthew of Stratham, NH, Brian & his wife Robin of Lexington and Michael & his wife Janet of Duxbury.  Son-in-law of Lucy & the late Joseph Bramanti of Burlington.  Brother-in-law of the Bramantis; Peter & Peggy, Jay & Jeanne, Robert & Linda, Chris & Gretchen.  Patrick is also survived by many nieces and nephews. 

     Funeral from the Edward  V Sullivan Funeral Home, 43 Winn St., BURLINGTON (Exit 34 off Rt. 128/95 Woburn side) on Saturday, Oct 6 at 9 a.m.  Followed by a Mass of Christian Burial in St. Margaret’s Church, 111 Winn St., Burlington at 10 a.m.  Burial to follow in Westview Cemetery, Lexington.  Visiting hours at the Funeral Home on Friday, Oct. 5 from 4-8 pm.  Memorials in Patrick’s name may be made to the Patrick Spencer Memorial Fund, c/o Northern Bank & Trust, 13 Center St., Burlington, MA 01803 or Alzheimer’s Association, MA Chapter, 36 Cameron Ave., Cambridge, MA 02140  www.alzmass.org   For directions, obituary & online guestbook see www.sullivanfuneralhome.net & www.stmargaretburlington.org

Eulogy (Anthony):

Growing up whenever I was asked who was my hero I would say my dad.   That is probably the most cliche answer. Every son idealizes their father and would say they are their hero. But I actually meant it. He made accounting glamorous to me. And I always thought I would become an accountant because I wanted to be just like my father.  It wasn’t until senior year in high school that I seriously considered science and technology as a career path. My dad supported me because that was the man he was. Nothing made him prouder than to see his three children forge their own path and succeed.  And it was with the lessons he taught all of us that gave us the tools to succeed.

He was my coach in sports and many of my friends can attest to his miracle-esque halftime speeches whenever we were down. “Boys you played like crap and you’re are only down by 8 so how about we step up our game, play like a team, and surprise everyone.” And of course we would come back and win.  Everyone loved him, and I still get told when I bump into someone around town that my dad was their favorite coach.  He coached my brother and I in soccer even though he didn’t know soccer - he just wanted to be with us.

He was more than just our coach for our sports teams, he was also our coach for life.  When my brother was a teenager, he showed less of an interest in sports, but showed a talent for making and decorating cakes.  Dad took him every week to cake decorating classes to foster his talent and interest, and even himself graduated with a certificate in cake decorating.  Every week, he’d learn how to frost, layer a cake, and even make roses out of frosting.  Most memorably, my brother tells a story of how their teacher was showing them a new technique and said, “sing out if you need help.”  Five seconds later, from the back of the class, my dad, needing help, starts going “la la la,” and the teacher, shocked, exclaims, “Patrick! What’re you doing?” And he goes, “well, you said sing out if you need help.”

My father was whoever his kids needed him to be.

For my sister, he would do anything. From letting her style his hair to pretending to be her favorite pet horse, Strawberry, or taping her favorite TV show for them to watch together the next night, and even being her on-call roadside assistance. They shared a special bond and the same sense of humor and would often be in their own little bubble bantering back and forth. Upon her request one year, he made a Key Lime pie as her birthday cake. Upon tasting the pie, my sister looked up at him and without her saying anything he responded “Yeah. I used a lot of limes.”

He was the type of father any woman would be lucky to have support and encourage her in her life.

He was the steady gentle and wise man we could always talk to about anything.  Who had an ability to explain anything in a concise manner that would make us understand and feel calm and safe.

I will always be grateful for the many trips our parents took us on while growing up.  That was how my father imparted his knowledge and his love for history on us.  On our long car rides to Gettysburg or Chincoteague, Hershey’s or Washington D.C.. He would regale us with facts. Always teaching us always keeping us engaged and interested.

I was fortunate to be able to go the Big East tournament a couple of years ago with him. It was something he did with his father and we got to continue the tradition and stay in the same hotel.  The whole weekend was something special.  Taking the train down. Getting pizza across from Madison Square Garden. Grabbing a couple of drinks from the Irish pub between games. 

I learned so much from my father.  He taught me how to be a man. How to honor and respect women.  Especially how to care for the ones closest to you. How to be a good brother. How to be a father, if I’m lucky one day. How to stand up for what was right even though it was hard. How to be a leader and treat people - my father once told me 99 percent of managers treat people like a number in a spreadsheet, you have to be the 1 percent that treats them like a human.

He taught me to love the Patriots. Take pride in the Irish. Struggle with the Friars and Sox. And persevere with the Celtics. I’ll miss talking to him and strategizing how our team was going to make a comeback at the end of the game. Or following asleep watching March Madness only to get woken up by him yelling “can we make a freakin free throw.”

I learned how to mix the most absurd combinations of food from him.  In ways that would anger my mother.  Taking all the leftovers from thanksgiving and making a sandwich was always so good and my mom would always say potatoes and stuffing on bread was way too many carbs but we still ate it.

Before I end, I want echo to my family, what they already know he would have said to them if granted the opportunity. In a clear, concise, calming manner that only he could provide.

To his brother, Matt, he would say he loved you. You guys didn’t always see eye to eye but those great debates on business, sports, and politics made life great and worth living.

To his brother, Brian, he would express his love.  You were his best friend. He would express how much he enjoyed having you as his partner in crime and someone to split all those chores with growing up.

To his brother, Mike, he would first say you were the favorite. He would say he loved you and you are the strength of the family.

To my brother, Phillip, he would express his pride in the man he has become.  How you judge a man is by his actions and Phillip’s have always been good and pure.  And how he is my brother’s number one fan.

To my sister, Theresa, he would explain his joy to have witnessed how she has grown to be such a strong and independent women.  And that he will be there whenever she needs him.

To my mother, he would tell her how much he loved her. How beautiful and smart and kind she is. How he will forever be holding her hand has she walks along the beach. And if she ever misses him to go to her corner of the kitchen where the coffee pot is because things never change and he will always be there getting in her way.

We are all here because my father touched each of us in some way.  He may have left this world far too soon but a piece of him lives on in each and everyone of us.  I want to ask all of you here today to love each moment of life, to find the humor in even the smallest thing.  Because, in doing so, we will honor Patrick Spencer, and we will all live a more beautiful life.

Remarks at cemetery (Phillip):

My dad taught me how to laugh.  How to joke about the smallest things. How to enjoy and appreciate every part of life, even the most minute detail.  We would always sit together, snickering in the corner, telling each other jokes about things only we would understand. 

He had the sharpest wit, sarcastic comebacks, and he was always so damn proud of himself when he came up with the quickest replies.

I remember one time, I played a Taylor Swift song for my dad in the car.  After the song finished, I said “I love the way the song ends, it’s great.”  And without missing a beat, my dad goes “I like the fact that the song ended.”  I looked over at my dad, and he’s just grinning, laughing to himself.

My dad and I would spend hours talking about music, movies, tv shows, and books.  Anything under the sun, he could talk about. Because my dad knew everything.  And he had an opinion on it. He was a thesaurus of knowledge and had a bank of trivia facts at the ready. When I would ask him how he knew something, he would say “how do you not know that” and my favorite “because I’ve lived.”

He was always one step ahead of everyone. Growing up, my siblings and I wanted a pet dog, and my dad wasn’t so keen on the idea.  So, our dad said that if we could keep the guppies Anthony brought home from school alive for another year, we could get the dog. We all enthusiastically agreed not realizing that due to the life span of a guppy, they had less than a year to live.

I’m going to miss my dad and his jokes, but I’m going to miss the heart that he had - he had the biggest heart of all.  He loved his family and everyone so unconditionally for who we are individually.

On occasion, my dad and I would quote lines from our favorite movies to each other.  Many times, I would quote Marisa Tomei’s line from the courtroom scene in My Cousin Vinny and say, “The defense is wrong!” and my dad would reply in Joe Pesci’s voice “Are you sure?” And I’d replied “I’m positive.”

So, Dad, I’m positive that we’re all going to miss you.  You are such a big part of all of us, and you taught us all to love life but to love our family.  You taught us never give up, and we will continue to make you proud.