Meant to Be

It's a small world.  A really small world.  My uncle was telling us a story about his dad (my paternal grandfather) and some kind of shooting incident.  I know you don't know my Uncle Tim but sometimes his stories wander a bit  so I don't have better details than that, but apparently my grandfather shot one of his brothers. 

Of course, I couldn't let that go so I started a little research to see what I might find out about any grand-uncles that may have been shot perhaps fatally.  My grandfather Ryan was one of  9 children.  One of his older brothers died rather early so he was my first target (oops--unfortunate choice of words).  I had his date of death so it was pretty easy to send away for a copy of the obituary.  And there was a big surprise in there for me!

As far as I knew, the Ryan boys never wandered too far away from Gloucester Massachusetts, but William Henry Ryan Jr died at his home on Madison Avenue in New York City at the age of 38!  He worked at the Ellis Island immigration station hospital--think about how interesting that must have been.  But the most interesting piece of information came at the end of the obituary--"Uncle Bill" (as I call him now) was buried at St. John's cemetery in Queens. 

St. John's cemetery is also where your great grandmother Catherine Contenta Messa is buried!!  I would never have guessed that one of my Irish ancestors would share a final resting place with your Italians before either James or I were buried.  Maybe it was always meant to be.  How scary is that?