Gregory Brennan Krasco

Steve Krasco:
"If tears could build a stairway, and memories a lane, I'd walk right up to heaven and bring you home again."
It's hard to come to the realization that our little brother is actually gone. Greg always dreamed of doing big things in life. Yet, he lived through so much more pain than anyone should. Somehow, he was able to fight the pain and make lasting memories for all of us.
Today is your day Greg! In the words of your favorite rapper, "Instead of mourning your death, I'd rather celebrate your life."
I'd like to share a conversation Greg and I had about two weeks ago. Greg was sober and in a good way. He messaged me to let me know he was going to play lacrosse with some old buddies. I was so excited for him, and told him to let me know how it goes. Later that day, this was the message he sent me, "You should have seen me kid, I was rusty for like ten minutes, then by the end I was making behind the back passes from fifty yards away on point, both hands."
This was Greg. I will always remember how happy he was playing sports. I will cherish the trips to Winnepasaukee, the Sunday steak dinners and Pat's games, and just listening to you lecture me on just about anything.
Jes Krasco:
One of the best moments of your life was when you found out you were going to be a dad. You started preparing for it as soon as you knew you and Amanda were expecting a little one. We all knew you'd examine everything to a "T". You'd be meticulous with everything you did-from washing your face, to the way you ate your food. Everything had to be done your way-the best way. So, it was only fitting that Devin would have the best stroller and carseat, down to the pacifiers and diapers. And, you had to put everything together yourself, accepting help from no one. When Devin was born, we all saw a different side of you. Watching you become a father was awesome. I'd never seen you so devoted to anything in your life. You and your "Dooty" became inseperable. Parks, pools, beaches, aquariums, zoos, and even national lacrosse tournaments, you wanted Devin to see and do it all. You were so proud how smart and advanced he became, often telling us he was going to Harvard. You'd also try to convince us that you could go there too but you just didn't feel like it. If you asked Devin, "Who's better than you?" Devin would defiantly say "Nobody!" The two of you were a dynamic duo together.
Soon, the second half of your world was born. Your little "Moozy" was doomed from the start with you. As an over-protective brother you constantly told Jen and me that no guy was ever good enough for us. So, it was a given that your beautiful little girl would never be able to talk to any boys. Your "baby girl" as you often called her, would get serenaded by your rendition of Darius Rucker tunes. I'd never seen you be so gentle until you held Maya in your arms. I'll never forget the look on her face evertime she saw her Daddy. I've never seen a girl look so happy as she ran into your arms. She is a free spirit for sure and that made your so proud.
When you found out that I was going to be a mother, you were so happy for me. You always told me how great a mother I would be, and that I just had those motherly instincts. To tell you the truth if it weren't from watching you as a father, I'd be a nervous wreck. You put my mind at ease and assured me that this was going to be the best part of my life.
A week before you left us, you and me talked, I was so worried about you and I was trying to lift your spirits. I told you how much I wanted you around to be an uncle to my son, and my greatest fear is that you wouldn't be here. You told me, "I'm going to be the best uncle, and I'm not going anywhere." Even though you are not physically here with us, my son will always know he had an Uncle Greg, who watches over him everyday, along with his two cousins Devin and Maya.
Jen Krasco:
The past few years, your life took a different turn than we all expected. You became sick. Your behavior began to change and we saw you drifting from the things that were the most important to you-us. You cared less and less about your appearance, didn't put as much time in to seeing your kids, and you became detached from us. Finally, you agreed to get help. When you went to your first treatment center, you were so optomistic, thinking you would make it out and be sober for life. We learned that only a small percentage of kids make it out sober and stay sober. We thought that would be you. Because, anything you do you put your heart and soul into. However, your addiction proved stronger than our love and your inner strength and even numerous stints at treatment centers later proved ineffective. As your loved ones we can be mad all we want. Mad at what this desease did to you mentally, physically, and emotionally. Mad at what it did to you, our family and Amanda's. We, especially Mom, spent nights up late wondering where and how you were, who you were with, and made little excuses for why you couldn't make holiday parties and celebrations. We can be maddest of all that you won't be here to see the two most beautiful things in this world, Devin and Maya, grow up. But, we can't be mad at YOU, Greg. I know you suffered so much inside and even though you tried, with the help of many family and friends at numerous times, to fight this and win, your disease was stronger than any of us could ever imagine. It was even stronger than you.
For those of us who were with you the last weeks before your death, we saw you prosper. You became tan (I even caught you sunbathing on the back deck). You were working out rigorously. I remember asking you a couple days after you started lifting again, "Do you just gain biceps like two days after working out?" and you said while flexing of course, "Thanks Jenny! That made me feel really good." That made my day. You were also spending every waking second that you could with your kids. You were incredible with your hands and could fix anything that was broken. You and Dad were working on construction together and that made you feel great. One day you were working at different jobs and you couldn't get in touch with Dad. For an hour you kept calling me and Mom, asking if we had heard from him. You even made me go online to check the wireless coverage in his area. You were so worried that something happened to him. Turns out Dad just left his cell phone in his truck. But, that's how you were with your family and loved ones-always protective, loyal and loving. Even when you weren't in the best way, we all felt safe around you, you would let nothing hurt us.
At home, you were at your best. You seemed happy and healthy and getting back to your true self. But now I know you still had seeping wounds inside unhealed, urging for something to stop the pain of withdrawal. You hid this from all of us, your family, the kids and Amanda. We wanted you to have a healthy sober life so bad-something that you truly deserved. With anything you did in life, you didn't want to let us down. I think that you loved all of us so much that you wanted us to believe you weren't faltering.
I sat up late with you the night before you died. We were just talking about random stuff, like movies, how happy your kids were at Jes' babyshower (especially Devin with his penciled-on mustache), my new workplace and current events in the news. I am going to miss being a night owl together with you. I'll still talk to you because I wouldn't know how not to. You understood me like no one else. I only hope that you know we tried to understand you. We couldn't carry your pain but know that we would have, if it was possible. Life is going to be hard without you. Your irritating shoulder rubs, listening to you sing and rap around the house, your fascination with the history channel, and most of all, the times we got to spend together as a family, outside dinners with you and the kids, watching you in your element. We'll think back on those times to get us through your loss.
Steve Krasco (closing):
Last year Greg made a special trip to California to be with me. I made him come on a hike in Malibu to the top of the Santa Monica Mountains. He complained the entire hour it took us to get to the trailhead. Once we got there he obviously had to be the first one to the top. Once we were at the peak he perched himself against the mountain. He made a subtle comment, "How the earth was such a beautiful place." He didn't want to leave, he kept saying how he could sit there all day. He was truly relaxed and at ease.
Greg is perched on his own beautiful peak now. High up in the sky, I know he will look over us, his family and friends and keep us safe. I know no matter what, in life or death, Greg always had our backs.
Love you Greg!