For the love of a building, Part 2

I put off writing this entry for as long as I could, mainly because I couldn't bring myself to do it without breaking down every third sentence. My previous entry about Russell was sad enough; to write one in the same vein but closer to my heart was more than I could bear.

On August 27th, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, my friend (as well as loyal blog-watcher and frequent commenter) Mike Miller passed away. He was just 51.

What made his death even more tragic was the irony of it happening on the heels of losing Russell, the man whose post as CTRC president Mike had taken over just last year. Mike had so much to say about Russell's wake, and how beautifully it was handled and arranged, and a few short weeks later we were saying goodbye to Mike himself in the same spot. I didn't think I could cry so many tears. That little pocket-pak of Kleenex I took to the service didn't stand a chance.

I've said a lot of what I had to say about the Central Terminal in the previous post, so I won't get into that. I will say, however, that it was Mike who was instrumental in getting me involved as deeply as I am. He was the first person I talked to about becoming a volunteer, about donating materials from my job, and about my instant love for the building. He got it when I told him the building had "spoken" to me. He was the one who told me I looked like the illustration of the Bier Wench on the Oktoberfest poster and convinced me to dress up in the costume. He'd said, "Come on, dress up! You look just like her! You have the same hair, and you have the boobs for it!" I told him only he could get away with saying that, and I agreed to dress up.

Mike loved the Central Terminal more than anyone I know, and felt such a bond to the place due to it being the very thing that caused his existence in the first place (his parents met while working there together). His energy and dedication radiated onto everyone around him, and it was hard not to share in his enthusiasm, and even harder not to smile when you saw him.

Not only was Mike dedicated to the Terminal, he was dedicated to preservation in Buffalo. A founder of Broadway-Fillmore Alive and the recently appointed president of Preservation Buffalo Niagara, Mike loved this area. Mike loved a lot of things, in fact. Mike was full of love - for his family, his friends, his colleagues, his causes. "What a great guy" doesn't even begin to describe it. He was a constant and reliable source of encouragement, support, and friendship to me, and I never heard him utter an unkind word about anyone. Even those he might not have agreed with, or who had transgressed in some way, Mike could spin everything into a positive light - with a smile.

We're all going to miss him more than words can say, and the entire Buffalo-Niagara region will forever feel his absence. The Terminal will never be the same without him walking around. I worked the train show this past weekend and without thinking, I kept looking for him in the crowd, kept waiting for him to come into the gift shop. Then I'd remember.

This blog will never feel the same, knowing he's not reading it, knowing I'll never see another comment from him. He used to tell me all the time how much he enjoyed reading it, and how he couldn't wait to read the next entry. He told me one time during a particularly stressful time in my life (and a coincidentally dry spell of writing) that I needed to "vent my spleen," and that became the title of the next entry, the very next day. Even if he didn't comment here, he'd make sure to tell me the next time he saw me. In fact, one of the last things he said to me in person was "I loved that entry about the Quirkyalones. I could totally relate." And then he said what he always said to me. "But don't worry, Deedee, you'll find someone when it's the right time. You're too fabulous to be alone."

Well, Mike...I know wherever you are you're among friends and are at peace. Because you, no matter here or hereafter, are too fabulous to be alone.

Michael J. Miller
1958-2009
You are loved and missed by many.