I had a moment today—reflecting on one of my last memories of Eddie before I moved away from Philadelphia.

It was the night Roy Halladay pitched a no-hitter in the playoffs against the Cincinnati Reds. I was with my buddy Jeffy, riding the high of witnessing baseball history, weaving through the parking lot, still buzzing with excitement. The energy was crazy, and the crowd was alive, but of course one voice stood out—louder, more animated, and unmistakably extra. Before I even saw him, I knew. It was Eddie. Of course, it was Eddie- he was never one for subtlety.

The moment we recognized each other, he sprinted toward me—which, considering his size, was an intimidating sight. He wrapped me in one of those signature “Eddie” hugs—the kind that felt like a bear hug, a victory lap, and a warm blanket all rolled into one. He was celebrating like he was the one who had just thrown the no-hitter, arms in the air, shouting with pure, unfiltered joy. That was Eddie—he didn’t just live in the moment; he amplified it.

And honestly, just seeing him there just made a great experience better. That’s what he did—he had this effortless way of making everything brighter, bigger, and more memorable, just by being himself. Eddie didn’t have to try to make your day; he just did.

Becki, 

Eddie will be in all our hearts forever.  

And his memory will hug our hearts for our lifetime.

May we all cherish the memories shared with the Big Guy!

Love and Hugs, Aunt Colleen

Becki, Laci and Mia, 

Your Eddie was larger than life, fun, and exuding joy in his life because of just how happy he was being your husband and daddy!!!!  I will always remember his infectious smile and the love he had for you.  Love you ladies 

Mary Moreton

I love you uncle Eddie, I already miss you so much. I't hurts to think about how long you suffered, and every one of my prayers goes to you, Laci, Mia, Becki, and Dozer. please rest in peace ❤️

i love you so so soooooo much 

tell Butkus I say hi