Milo Jose Vidro

His love for his wife was self evident. Though they bickered like an old married couple, because they were for in the eyes of their grandchildren, their love for each other was evident through it all. Pop-Pop would always buy her flowers, cards, rings, and jewelry. Anything to profess his unwavering love for his beautiful wife. The love they shared gave us all a glimpse into what ‘in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part’ really looked like, and their everlasting love goes even beyond that.

He loved his boys, and he was so proud of each and every one of his grandchildren. He was there for whatever they needed whenever they needed it. He made a point to pay for driving lessons when they needed to start the process of getting a permit. He picked them up from school in his big pick up truck and snuck in a pit stop for a treat or two on the way home. He did his best to show up at every show, concert, musical, game, and event just to show his love and support.

He always asked how everyone was doing whenever you saw him. He’d ask about your mom, your tias and tios, your other grandmas and grandpas, and even about your pets back at home. He liked knowing everyone was doing okay, and most importantly, that you were okay too.

His hobbies included gardening, fishing, shining his shoes, tending to the lawn, camping, clacking dominos, making his famous chili (and some other beverage he would occasionally offer people shots of), and going against his Philadelphian roots by cheering on the Dallas Cowboys every September. He loved his westerns, whether it was Gunsmoke or Wagon Train, and they were always playing if he was in charge of the remote. He also found great joy in scaring his grandchildren. He loved to knock and tell someone to go check the front door, or sneak out the front door to go tap on the backroom windows during the scariest part of a movie. Sometimes he’d even put on a cuco mask and stand in the back door until someone noticed and let him in.

He was a proud veteran, having joined the U.S. Army in 1965 and serving in Vietnam. He was in the 2nd Brigade, 7th Cavalry Regiment. He later worked at the 30th St. Station Post Office in Philadelphia and with his son, Paul, at his stained glass studio, Vidro Studios.

He’s remembered through his children and grandchildren, from the shuffling of his slippers in the early mornings to the munching on snacks in the late afternoons even after Milta said she was serving dinner soon. He was pop, husband, tio, pop-pop, compi, and Mr. Vidro to us all, and he was the best at it. He’s forever left an impression on everyone he’s loved and everyone who’s had the pleasure of getting to know him.