Michael F. Gesch

like the moon and the stars and the sun.

"Instant Karma" by John Lennon

Mike passed away peacefully on March 30, 2016. He was born in St. Louis, MO., on May 7, 1949, the first child of Gertrude Staszkiewicz Gesch, and Calvin E. Gesch. Throughout his childhood the family moved often as his dad was stationed at various Army bases, including a stint in Germany. As a boy, Mike was involved in many activities, serving as an altar boy, being a boy scout, volunteering as bat boy for his dad's army softball team, and school sports.

Mike graduated from Killeen High School, and pursued an engineering degree in college before having his studies interrupted by the Viet Nam draft in 1970. He was extremely proud of his military service which helped forge a stronger bond with his father, a veteran of WWII, Korea, and Viet Nam. After leaving the Army, Mike worked for the Texas Water Commission, followed by more than 25 years with the Texas Dept. of Transportation as a Transportation Specialist in Bridge Design. He participated in the design of the U.S. 183 elevated overpass that runs through North Austin as well as a multitude of other bridges throughout the state of Texas. He was especially proud of his work on the Colorado River at RM 620 Mansfield Dam Bridge.

Mike's passions included motorcycles, cars, NASCAR, music, and boating on Lake Travis. In his younger years the weekends were spent riding motorcycles along the Hill Country roads with his buddies, heading to Luckenbach or where ever the road led. In later years, Mike could be found weekly on Lake Travis, cruising the lake and dropping anchor in a quiet, peaceful cove.

A strong desire to understand how things work made Mike the family expert on everything from car issues, to home repairs, to wood working, and too many other topics to name. His family and friends will miss Mike immeasurably and treasure their memories of a special man full of life, charm, opinions, great advice, and high expectations for all to do the right thing.

Mike is predeceased by his parents. He is survived by his sister, Christine Anderson, his brother, Jeffrey Gesch and wife Candi, and his niece, Jordan Anderson.

Graveside services will be held on Tuesday, April 5, 2016 at 11 a.m. at Austin Memorial Park Cemetery at 2800 Hancock Drive.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions can be made to Wags Hope and Healing Dog Rescue, www.wagshopeandhealing.org.

Remembering

If you are lucky enough to have a big brother, you will understand this special and unique relationship. From the time you are born, he is there, a strong presence helping you navigate and explore childhood as a playmate, babysitter, protector, and in some instances as a parent figure. Mother always told us that Mike was named after St. Michael the Archangel, the leader of all angels and the army of God, and the patron of soldiers, doctors, police, and mariners. Scripture and Christian tradition says his main role was to serve as a protector.

As Jeffrey and I now reflect on Michael's life and what it has meant for us to have him as a big brother, we've realized that he was perfectly named, he was our own angel watching over us and protecting us throughout our lives. The eight, and 11 year gap in our ages strengthened that role of older brother, which sometimes expanded to being another father figure for us.

Mike was already in his teens when we were just kids and the perfect age to act as teacher and mentor. Like most teens he was probably less than thrilled to be left babysitting his two younger siblings, but when in charge, there was always something exciting to do. Catching horny toads and bringing them home in the old red wagon filled with sand. Fishing. Flying a remote-controlled plane, or operating the train sets that Mike and Dad set up each Christmas. Watching the Three Stooges on black-and-white TV. Teaching us how to quack like a duck. Introducing us to rock-and-roll as his Beatles and Rolling Stones 45s blasted from the living room stereo. Even delivering our poodle's puppies one night when our parents were out bowling. As he got older, the excitement increased with rides on his motorcycles, then cruising in his sports cars. Boy, did he dote on that 1964 Jaguar XKE, and the 1963 Mustang our Grandmother Miller left to him.

As we became young adults, Mike was still a steady presence, offering advice on car repairs, job opportunities, relationships, and so much more. He was an extremely intelligent guy and genuinely enjoyed learning the minute details about how things work and sharing that info with us when needed. His passion for knowledge benefited Jeff and me enormously—who needed to understand how a carburetor works or the best way to anchor a boat on a windy day when he was there to explain it or to do it for us? So many of our life decisions, particularly since our parents passed away 20 years ago, weren't made until the conversation was had with Mike.

Now we face life without our big brother. Our protector, mentor, cheerleader, and best friend is no longer here to offer his guidance and support. We will miss his sarcastic sense of humor, his perfectionism, his generosity, his pride in a job well-done, his insistence on doing the right thing, and his charm. Mike had eight years with our parents before his little sister came along and he was such a perfect blend of them both. From our Dad, an Army Brigade Command Sergeant Major, he learned to be tough and not half-ass anything. From our Mother, a woman who loved being a homemaker and taking care of her children, he got his sweetness, and generous and helpful nature.

Jeffrey and I are so blessed to have our cherished memories of a big brother who truly loved and cared for us. Throughout his life, and particularly in later years as his health worsened, Mike was always our hero, a man who set an example of how to be a gentleman, a good person, how to face adversity with humor, and how to love. We will miss our personal angel immeasurably and will carry him with us in our hearts always.

The Peace of Wild Things

Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the last sound

in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of the wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.