Obituary & Eulogy

Pat Fiorito, 92, passed into Eternal Life on Sunday, May 12, 2024.

Happily married for thirty-two years, his beloved wife, Betty, died in 1992. He is survived by his three daughters: Teri Bays, Toni Lucca and Tami Fiorito, his sister, Anita Thomas and nephew and nieces: Pat Thomas, Renee Smith, Stacey De Torres and Lisa Curio. His sister Sarah Cook, and brother Ronnie Fiorito predeceased him.

Born in Brooklyn, NY, Pat was born July 14,1931. Pat was the eldest Italian son of Margaret and Joseph Fiorito.

A long-time resident of Moonachie, New Jersey, Pat attended Wood-Ridge High School and played baseball. He proudly served in the Air Force from 1951 to 1955. Pat later raised his family in Moonachie, owned his first home there where he also started his business in the garage.

Pat married Elizabeth Novak in 1960–“the best thing that ever happened to me.” He started Metro Fire & Safety Equipment Company in 1962, a successful business that serviced fire departments, malls, businesses and schools throughout the tri-state area. He moved to Upper Saddle River in 1974 til after the death of his wife, when he moved to Atlantic City and then Smithville before moving to Boca Raton and DelRay Beach, Florida.

Pat enjoyed recalling details of trips with his family, especially two extended cross country trips in motor homes. Although he believed that one should see the beauty of this country first, he and Betty later enjoyed their travels overseas.

Pat believed in “Family first” and loved his country. His faithfulness and strong work ethic defined his life. His primary purpose was providing for his family. Pat had a strong sense of right and wrong, he loved a good argument and he was a champion for the underdog. He loved his family and will be remembered for his loyalty to family and his generosity, which was beyond measure.

Forever a Dodgers fan, he recently traveled with one of his daughters to Arizona for their spring training games to visit his eldest daughter—testimony to all that he valued: loyalty, love of family, baseball, and travel—and at 92, strength and perseverance despite challenges.

The Celebration of Pat’s life will be held on May 30th, 2024, first with a Gathering of Family and Friends held at 10:30am in the Jerusalem Room; followed by the Mass of Christian Burial Funeral Liturgy at 12 noon, at Church of the Presentation, 271 West Saddle River Road, Upper Saddle River, NJ.

The Catholic Rite of Committal with final Commendation as well as a veteran send-off, will take place at George Washington Memorial Park Cemetery, All Faith’s Mausoleum, 234 Paramus Road, Paramus, NJ. Immediately following, all are welcome to a repast held at the home of Pat’s niece, Renee Smith, 189 Hebberd Ave, Paramus, NJ.

 Eulogy

My father was the first-born Italian son of the first-born Italian son—a kind of family star— Pat’s entire life was about creating a better life for his family as if he embodied all the hopes of those generations before him. Was it the Fiorito genes or his tough Brooklyn, NY beginnings that explained his strong confidence and can-do attitude? Even the earliest stories showed that he was respected and perhaps a bit feared— even at a young age.

Growing up in the 60’s when the rest of the world was reeling from Vietnam riots and the Kennedy assassinations, we were living in a happy cocoon of Italian-love. “Family first,” he would say— and sometimes he said it loudly.

Pat had a strong sense of right and wrong and he loved a good argument. He was also a champion for the underdog, a defender of his family and generous beyond measure.

If anyone needed anything they called Pat.

If you called him CRYING, he’d say.

“What are you crying for? Don’t worry about it!”

It was a family refrain.

When our family dog, Missie, ran away into a neighbor’s yard, the owner said he was going to “shoot that dog if it didn’t get out of his backyard.” I was 9 and I was sobbing. The police arrived. A crowd was gathering to watch the drama. Then Dad showed up.—- how did he even know this was all happening? But there he was. He whistled, the dog returned to his side and he handed me her leash, saying:

“What are you crying for?”

Pat started Metro Fire the same day another business failed. His uncle had told him to take whatever was left in the building.

On his way home Pat stopped at his cousin’s gas station

and it was there that his cousin asked if he could buy that fire extinguisher he noticed in the back seat of the car.

My Dad took his own advice--

he didn't worry or feel sad about the job ending.

Instead he just moved ahead into the next chapter of his life, starting Metro from our home-garage, living by his other philosophies—

“Do what you have to do. Do what’s right.”

Everywhere we went, people knew our Dad, and because of him our worlds felt safe and protected— a different kind of Fire Protection.

We also knew that wherever we were, whatever we did, word would get back to him about us.

Throughout the years, each of his daughters had the experience—sometimes more than once—of being stopped for moving vehicle violations. In my case the police officer looked at my Metro Fire registration, and asked,

“Are you Pat’s daughter?”

In my sisters case, the officer recognized them and drove them home.

No tickets.

“Don’t worry about it” really meant—I’ll take care of it. And he always did! Throughout our lives, we didn’t have to worry. Our father took care of us and the mishaps of our lives: whether it was a car we crashed, a divorce, a bill, a threat, an injured dog…

Pat’s generosity extended beyond family. When Tami’s friend was stopped for a DWI, somehow my father heard about it and in the middle of the night—pulled up in front of the police station in his Jaguar, pulling off his driving gloves. He loved showing up in a crisis and taking care to it.

When mom was diagnosed with cancer, it was heart-breaking for him because he could not take care of it. Dad always said,

“She was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

One day after her death I asked him how he was doing. He just said, “32.” “32 years we were married.” The number itself seemed to hold all the words he could not say.

And when there’s so much feeling, there are just less words to use.

Within these last years, he had to rely on Toni and Tami, he had to give up some control. It was hard, but they all created good memories too.

At the end of our calls, he’d say, “I love you.” Our once-critical Dad who would say, “Don’t believe everything you hear..” Or, “You’re putting the cart before the horse,” Now told me, “Anything you do, you do well. You'll be fine.”

Pat’s death now gives new meaning to “32”: he lived without Betty for as long as he lived with her.

Recently he told us how he felt her in the room with him—so clearly he nearly called her name out loud. He wondered if she was there to take him with her. He said he wasn’t scared.

He was ready for the next chapter—finally with Betty.

After the doctors told him that without the surgery it would be hours or days, again, there were few words to capture all that that meant.

He just said, “You know I love you. “Don’t worry about it.”

And today, I know he would also say to us— especially to the daughters he loved,

“What are you crying for?”

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