My Friend Mike

Michael Anthony Breeden 1988 - 2024

A Crucial Fact 

My friend Mike liked being here.  He discovered with considerable  enthusiasm  my apartment living area was a comfy fun place to hang out.  My leather reclining chair was his favorite seat in the house:  “The recliner is so right. You know I like it.  It’s my  place to just kick back. I call it!,”  Mike exclaimed. 

“You call it?!”  I haven't heard that one since I was a child arguing with my siblings over dibs for the TV. Funny, it really did seem at times  that Mike was like a little kid.  He was easily enthused. It was surely genuine.  

“Okay Mike, you can have the recliner when you visit,” I assured him.   

“Yes!”  Mike beams victorious. High fives all around. Mike grins broadly,  nodding approval that — not only was he a welcomed visitor  in my home— but he had firmly secured for posterity  his favorite cushy place to sit. 

I admired how Mike could be mesmerized and impressed by the  small stuff.  How he appreciated the little comforts that I routinely took for granted.  Mike was oh so right about the chair. It is my favorite too. Very comfortable. Mike constantly  reminded me of my blessings– a crucial fact, about my friend Mike, that is worthy of his testimony.  

Laughter

Mike was a realist, not a fatalist.  He accepted his situation as it was and prepared himself every waking hour to deal with it.  He was keen to get better and be better and believed he had the choice to get well, despite insurmountable odds that were obvious.  Still, he understood his dilemma.  He was frightened, but exceedingly brave. He possessed a stunningly high threshold for pain and he did his mighty best.   

We covered all the deep topics during his quick visits— life, love, death, suffering,  risk, relationships, all of it. Sometimes much too seriously; often far too jokingly. 

On death and dying: 

“Hey Mike, get this one. My grand mom Conboy said,  ‘Who cares and why? When  I die, just stick a bone in my ass, throw me to the alley and let the dogs carry me away!’”  

A crude yarn to share under the circumstances; but certainly not offensive to my friend Mike!   On the contrary,  Mike thought my grand mom Conboy’s quote was enormously funny. Like the funniest thing he ever heard in his life: 

“Who cares and why? Bone in her ass?  What?! Your grandmother said that?! Oh my god, that's so fn funny!”  

He was rolling. 

“Throw me  to the alley? Who the hell says  that?!”   He’s roaring, holding his gut, doubled over in his favorite chair.  I rarely ever saw a guy enjoy a laugh like that. Then Mike suddenly looks up, trying to catch his breath,  and asks a weird question, “How old is your grandmother?”  

Perplexed, I stare back at Mike: "What? I don’t know, like one-hundred and twenty five ! She’s  been dead for decades."

Now, why Mike thought that was so damn funny, I’ll never know. But  he was off to the races with that one. He was literally  bent over, trying to catch his breath, then the next bout of laughter would overcome him again.  It was a genuine laugh. When you laugh over top of deep pain; and it is still  a real laugh; that’s genuine.  Mike was authentic with his passions. He was the real deal. 

And he had a great laugh.  

Being Loved 

The power of a mother’s love is truly awe inspiring. I am very  grateful to the Austin Police Department for connecting me with Mike’s Mom.   He spoke of his mom often, always with admiration, always positive that he knew, no matter what, that she was in his corner.  It is only with her permission that I share these heartfelt sentiments now. 

Mike’s ashes, she said, are to be hallowed   on his grandma and great grandmother’s resting place. She shared these pictures of his urn and flowers.  Seeing those pics and having the privilege to speak to Mike’s mom, is a heartbreaking honor. 

My  friend Mike— Michael Anthony Breeden, a local born and raised in Austin, Texas, USA;  the dear and loving only son to Silvia Breeden—  died on June 27, 2024.  He was thirty-six  years old.  

My friend Mike was a remarkable man. A wounded warrior who was as determined as most anyone I have ever known  to  be a better man every day. If there is a God— and my friend Mike believed, although skeptical, that there is a case for it— then He gives His hardest battles to His strongest creations.  

And so it was with my friend Mike. 

When so saddened, we are quick to ask “What happened? How, where, why?” These  are but curiosities— but not his story.  My friend Mike  was a loving son, endeared to his family, fiercely loyal friend and a kind, generous, courageous  and a very fine man— that’s his true legacy. 

It’s a good one. 

And he was loved. He was loved very much. And he knew it.  He knew it to the last.  It is a beautiful true thing.  

When? 

Regarding “When?”, my friend Mike died on June 27, 2024, having just earlier  celebrated his 36th birthday. There was a memorial service on July 5th, but I missed it.  I did not see his obituary until after the funeral. And no one knew to contact me.  Mike was careful to keep his networks to himself. 

That greatly disturbed me as I had just seen Mike, it turns out, the day before he died.  Then, after texting many days, not hearing from him, I suddenly thought to check the local obituaries.  

My Friend Mike's Obituary

And there he was— as a bright-faced kid;  in a cap and gown no less.  A high school graduation picture I surmised. His mom confirmed— he was 17 years old. His youthful  portrait beams hope and promise. There is that smile.  

Damn. 

Family

My friend Mike  is survived by his mother, Silvia Breeden, and Step-father, Martin Luis Merino-Garcia; his aunts, Gloria Clark, Cynthia Zuck (David); his uncle, Robert Breeden; his cousin, Daniel Zuck;  his grandfather, Donald P. Breeden and his beloved fur-baby “brother” Kanelo, the family pet.    

He was preceded in death by his beloved grandmother, Teresa C. Breeden, to whom Mike also had great affection.   Mike’s Aunt Gloria  shares remarks indicative of the good man who  we know was my friend Mike:  “Michael gave the last money he had in his pocket to someone in need. He was a very kind person."

 “Caring, helpful, loving,” his Aunt Cyndi adds.  

Family is everything.   And my friend Mike understood that. 

Friends 

Mike was keen on the topic of friendship, insisting, as he often would— almost every visit in fact — that we were friends:

 “We are friends, right?,” he would prompt me.  

“Yes, Mike, of course,” I reply.  

He smiles again, affirming nods positive to himself for my recurring answer. He repeats the point: 

“Friends, that’s right.  Friends- that  means something man.”  He was emphatic. 

Yes it does Mike. Yes it does.  

Write My Story 

Mike asked if he could read my blog.  I was surprised by his interest and gratified that he was keen to learn about my memoir writings, which are primarily about my own family.   He was reading a post with pictures  about my father, who passed away in 1991, entitled “My Father’s Obituary”.   

Mike’s critical assessment:  “Your father was much better looking than you.” 

Wise ass. “Thanks for sharing that buddy. Any other positive feedback?!” 

Mike chuckles.  Then he says, half joking, “Maybe you can write my life story some day.”

I kind of stammered at that:   “Well sure Mike,” I said, “But your story has hardly begun.  There is so much to…”  I stopped.  My your-story-is-not-written-yet platitudes  sounded  like bullshit as soon as I said them.  I felt we were on awkward ground.  Mike was in a bad way and we all knew it. The powerlessness pervaded.  

I actually know very little about Mike’s biographical details. But  I do know  how he felt about it in his constant quest to persevere.  I have no doubt that his  complete story  is amazing on many levels and worthy book material. But respect for his family and his privacy and dignity will always be my guide.  

Loyalty and Courage

My friend Mike’s empathy for others' suffering and his love for family and precious few friends  were as strong as any man. No. Stronger.  His selflessness, and loyalty could be over the top.  Like in giving away his last dollar to a person in need, as his aunt so attests.  

Mike faced a lot of adversity and fought back bravely with a passion that few can muster.  I had the impression  that Mike would jump on a  grenade for me, simply  because I welcomed him into my home and offered him a favorite chair!  

Most  people do not understand the courage and deep love involved in that kind of loyalty.  But I was blessed to see a glimpse of it.  His family who knew him from a baby- they understand  the strength and  goodness of the man within.   

Obituary Prompts 

Obituary prompts made it easy to comment about my friend Mike. Family and two friends determined to do so.

Having missed the services, I studied my friend Mike’s obituary listing. It includes a place to offer condolences and share fondest memories, helping mourners with prompted questions to comment testimony about the beloved deceased. 

There were a few touching  comments from his Mom, Silvia and three relatives, including from his  aunts and uncle-in-law.  In total, seven people offered their comments.  Just two people — me and another— identified ourselves as “Friends.” 

That greatly bothered me and still does. First, a lot more people knew my friend Mike, but they stayed away. I do not know who they are, but I am certain they exist.  Second, despite all the adverse things that have happened to Mike across his short life, he saw the good in others and had great affection and respect  for his fellows;  much more than folks ever respected  him. Finally, Mike’s mantra  “Friends- that means something man” was very important to him.

And now it is important to me. It is important to us all. Listen y’all to my friend Mike!  He harks great joy and wisdom. And it means something.

Reputation

I know all about Mike’s local reputation and the world’s disdain for us so afflicted.   Oh yes, my friend Mike, certainly had a reputation— a judgment by other people, the righteous  establishment and society in general.  His demons were spectacular.  His existence was a drama filled with difficulty and illness, bizarre mishaps and pain.  And so he was judged. 

I get it. I truly understand. In the greatest  book and big-screen classic, Gone With the Wind, Rhett Butler says to Scarlett O’Hara, “With enough courage, you can do without a reputation.”  

I shared that devil-may-care  quote with my friend Mike— it is one of my favorite in all literature.  The power of it dawned on him. He smiles, “I like that one,” he says. 

Me too. My friend Mike possessed epic courage. Remember  that. And you will know him truly and give him the dignity and respect he has earned. 

He is my friend Mike.  That means something man. May he finally rest in peace.  Amen. 

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