Mike McCarthy

Mike McCarthy, beloved husband, father, grandfather and friend died peacefully at home surrounded by his family on January 12, 2010 at the age of 85. Mike was born on February 29, 1924 in Detroit, the son of the late Florence and Nora (Quinn) McCarthy. He defended his country in World War II, serving in the Navy with his father and brother. Mike later served the citizens of Detroit as a police officer for twenty six years, retiring as a detective sergeant. He continued serving as a Wayne County deputy sheriff for the Friend of the Court, until his eventual, and long deserved retirement in 1986. Mike loved spending time with his family, and being a part of his children’s and grandchildren’s lives and entertaining them in Florida. He leaves behind his loving wife of 59 years, Beverly; nine children, Tim (Kathy), Kevin (Kathryn), Brian (Rosanne), Terry (Sally), Kathleen (Bob) Uhl, Mike (Alesia), Dennis (Kathi), Patrick (Denise) and Nora (Shannon) McMackin and sister-in-law, Pam Tibbits, who he had a special and loving relationship. Mike is also survived by twenty grandchildren; his siblings, Mary McBride and Jim (Fran) McCarthy. Also surviving are his sister-in-law, Virginia McCarthy and brother-in-law, Phil Mancha, as well as many loving nieces and nephews. In addition to his parents, Mike was predeceased by his brother, Bud McCarty and sisters, Nan (Ed) Greene and Nora Mancha. "Melancholy Eyes" Tears swell and blur your picture, As your mind wanders to a time a bit richer. Your eyes are full you can’t stop the spilling, You think you should smile, but your cheeks are unwilling. The moments remembered are happy yet sad, They seem to revolve around Ma and Dad. It was then, it was here, they’re short and they’re quick. It’s a glimpse of the past, and it makes your throat thick. Highlights of times that have since passed us by, You just kind of remember and feel like a cry. Ma, those times in the kitchen, Or when Dad was still pitching. All the trips to the farm In protective arms. Mornings with coffee and long conversations, Weekends off for a camping vacation. Quiet nights with a book being read, Or a warm hand on the top of your head. There’s no certain memory to express; No one time that reflects it best. It’s just some tears that soon will dry, That warm your heart and show in your eyes. Brian McCarthy

Mike McCarthy

February 29, 1924 - January 12, 2010