Edward Gloskoski

Edward George Gloskoski Jr.—our Uncle Eddie—was the son of Edward and Helen and brother to Dolores, Mary Jane, and the late Edwina. He was an uncle who gave from his heart unconditionally and was in every sense, a good man—steady, humble, and deeply loved. His quiet kindness, gentle humor, and unwavering love shaped our family in ways that words cannot express.

Eddie grew up in Brooklyn, a place that would forever be a part of him. Some of his earliest and happiest memories were the long walks with his father, Dolores, and Mary Jane, where they explored Ebbets Field, Prospect Park and the zoo, and the Botanic Garden. Those adventures instilled in him a lifelong love for wandering, observing, and taking in the world at a gentle pace. Even as an adult, he continued exploring the streets of his neighborhood—Brooklyn was very special to him.

As a devout Catholic, Eddie attended Sunday mass regularly and always took time to light candles for all those he held dear. So many in fact, his late sister, Edwina, gave him the nickname “Keeper of the Light.”

Eddie spent decades working in electronic stores in Manhattan. It was honest, demanding work, and he took pride in it. That work ethic—quiet and strong—also translated to his relationships. If you needed help, Eddie was there. He showed up without hesitation and without complaint. He gave what he had, even when he didn’t have much. That is the mark of a rare soul.

His nephews Ray and Jeff brought him great joy. When they were young, Eddie and Mary Jane introduced them to the Beatles. Many afternoons were spent in Eddie’s 4th Avenue apartment, flipping records, exploring music, and trying to make his Venus flytrap snap shut. And to their great excitement, there were always fountain sodas delivered to his building—cream, grape, black cherry—flavors that defined childhood and growing up with him.

In 1980, Eddie moved to Sunset Park, where he spent the remainder of his life. And when Dolores moved to Bensonhurst with Ray and Jeff, he was a constant presence. Some of the best days of their childhood were the ones when Eddie came to visit. They’d invent games, build forts and castles out of sofa cushions, and play guitar. Every visit ended the same way—with Jeff wrapped around Eddie’s leg, begging him not to go, and with Eddie pressing five dollars into each boy’s hand, always generous beyond his means.

Our family gatherings—especially Christmas Eve—were legendary. Everyone packed together in Dolores’ small apartment talking, laughing, listening to music, watching old movies until one in the morning. Those were magical years, and Eddie was at the heart of it all.

Eddie’s love didn’t end with people. He had a big heart for animals too—his dog, Missy; cat, Ritzle; turtle, Gustav; and of course, his namesake: Dolores’ parrot, affectionately called “Eddie.” And he adored Ray’s dog, Suki, the perfect little lap dog who brought him comfort and company. Eddie enjoyed outings to Coney Island and bird-watching trips with Ray, and somehow, no matter the scenery, the best pictures always ended up being of Uncle Eddie: humble, joyful, and naturally himself.

Eddie loved old movies, especially comedies by The Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, and of course, horror classics from the 1930s and ’40s. He did impressions of all of them, bringing laughter and light into our home. His humor was never loud, never forced—just warm, playful, and perfectly Eddie. He was also a longtime fan of the Buffalo Bills football team and an avid history buff.

It is impossible to summarize a life so full yet understated. He was in the background of all we did, providing us with a sense of safety, generosity, and love, and never asking for recognition in return. His presence made the world feel like a more gentle place.

Eddie is survived by sister Dolores; sister Mary Jane and her husband, Tim; nephew Fred, his wife, Ruthie, and their daughter, Lisa; nephew Ray and his wife, Meesha; nephew Jeff and his wife, Sharan; and his longtime friend James. The world will feel emptier without Eddie, but we will carry his memory with us through his stories, the music he shared, and the love and kindness he gave unconditionally.

Rest in peace, Uncle Eddie. Thank you for everything. We will love you always.