Nicolas S. Urena

was born in Lehi, Arizona on September 10, 1919, the son of Pedro Urena and Carmen Vidaure. Nicolas passed away on Saturday, August 24, 2013 at home surrounded by his loving family. Nicolas was preceded in death by his wife Sally M. Urena, and his grandson Angel Urena. He was a husband, father, and tata and much loved by his family and friends. He married Sally in August of 1944 and they were married 56 years. Together they raised 7 children: Mary M. (Chata), Robert (Big Bobby), Antonio (Tony), Cecilia (Sheila), Diana, Michelle (Chow), and Nicholas Jr.

He is survived by all his sons and daughters; his son-in-law; Rick Medrano, his daughters-in-law; Tracy, Clarita and Alicia; his grandchildren: Renee and John Fontes, Bernadette and Mark Kesler, Bobby Jr., Lisa, Sara, Michael, Ricky and Bernadette Medrano, Savannah and Andres Espinoza, Antonio Jr., Annacelia, Alexis, Victoria, and Nick III. Great Grandchildren: Johnny Richard, Jesse, Jacob, Nicholette, Jazmine, Hailey, Bobby III, Michelle, Angel Jr., Xzavier, Lorenzo, Andres Jr., Elijah. Great Great Grandchildren: Leyla and Jay. Also, survived by his 4 sister's and 3 brother's.

Visitation will be held at Funeraria Del Angel Greer Wilson Chapel, 5921 W. Thomas Road, Phoenix, AZ 85033 on Thursday, August 29 from 5-8 p.m. Mass will be held at St. Vincent de Paul Catholic Church, 3140 N. 51st Avenue, Phoenix, AZ 85031 on Friday, August 30, at 10:00 a.m. Interment at the Greenwood Memory Lawn, 2300 W. Van Buren, Phoenix, AZ 85009

When I come to the end of the road

And the sun has set for me

I want no rites in a gloom-filled room,

Why cry for a soul set free?

Miss me a little but not too long,

And not with your head bowed low,

Remember the love that we once shared.

Miss me . . . but let me go.

For this is a journey that we all must take,

And each must go alone.

It’s all a part of the master plan

A step on the road to home.

When you are lonely and sick of heart,

Go to the friends we know,

And bury your sorrow in doing good deeds,

Miss me . . . but let me go.