A Tearful Goodbye to a Best Friend in Point Beach

Frank Kugyela would give you the shirt off his back without thinking twice, and he'd set you straight just as quickly.

"When Frank was training for the fire department, the guy asked him if he had ever driven a fire truck before," remembers Eddie Meier, one of his best friends and fellow Point Beach firefighter.

"Frank just looked at him and said, 'I drove a tractor trailer for 20 years. Excuse me!' " Meier said, with a devilish grin and a twinkle in his eye.

"That was Frank!" said Sherri Piescor, who, along with her husband, Bob, Meier, and many others were on board the Norma Kae III on Friday night to pay tribute to their friend, Kugyela, who passed away suddenly on July 16.

"Frank would tell you exactly what he was thinking," said Tommy O'Hare, laughing. "I heard the f word many times!"

Meier, Sherri and Bob Piescor, O'Hare, Scott Potter, Dan Skowronski and many other friends and fellow shared their memories, laughs, tears and hugs on board the Norma Kae III as they said a final farewell to Kuygyela, the guy who moved to Point Beach from Clifton 11 years ago and took to the shore, the boats, the fishing and the locals like a native.

And no wonder. He used to come down to Point Beach to boat, fish and go to the beach every chance he got for many years before moving in as a full-time resident.

He worked at Patrick T. Kerwin Inc. Refrigation-HVAC, 1624 Beaver Dam Road, Point Borough, and his boss, Pat Kerwin, was among those aboard.

Kugyela had apparently died from a blood clot that traveled from his leg to his lung, after he suffered through pneumonia, according to his friends.

Despite the pneumonia, his family and friends thought he would be just fine. His death couldn't have been more shocking.

"I just couldn't believe it when Eddie told me," said Joseph P. Cremona, who was best friends with Kugyela since they were 7, growing up together on Bergen Avenue in Clifton.

"I talked to him three or four times a day," he said. "He was only 47, same age as me. He ran three, three and a half miles about every other day on the beach. I just couldn't believe it."

Kugyela was the guy who was known for helping anyone for any reason, the guy who left a hole bigger than the largest commercial trawler in the hearts of everyone who knew him, the guy who was taken too suddenly, too soon, and will be remembered forever.

On July 16, Kugyela decided to walk from his condominium on Hulse, where he lived alone, down Broadway to the beach. He had a towel, chair and book with him, which is exactly what his friends would have expected.

But Kugyela never made it to the beach. He dropped onto a couch, left out for trash pickup, right in front of a small white building in front of the Broadway Grill, on Broadway near Ocean Avenue.

"He died right over there," said Meier, pointing to the white hut. "He just fell onto a couch that had been left out.

"People must have thought he had come from the bar and was drunk, because a bunch of people just passed him," Meier said. "Finally someone stopped and realized he was dead.

"From what I hear the first aid squad and the hospital did everything for him, but it was too late, he was gone," he said, sadly.

Meier, carrying Kugyela's fishing pole, and a group of mourners, then boarded the Norma Kae III to start the memorial. It seemed fitting. Kugyela had loved fishing and was a mate on the popular fishing boat.

No sooner was Meier on board than he said, "I'm gonna have a beer and then I'm gonna cry."

Cremona, who now lives in Lake Ariel, PA, remembers his childhood friend as always generous.

"We've been best friends since we were 7," said Cremona. "He'd give you the shirt off your back.

"When I got divorced, he let me live with him for a while, and wouldn't take any rent," said Cremona, who has since remarried. He was at the memorial with his wife, Marilyn, and 3-year-old granddaughter, Kayla Oddo.

"I miss Frank," Kayla said, as her grandfather held her tight on the Norma Kae III, as it sliced down the inlet towards the ocean.

"Yeah, I miss him too," said Cremona, as the boat passed rows of Point Beach firefighters and first aid squad members in their dress whites, saluting for Kugyela.

The red fire truck lights flashed in the twilight, as those on board the boat saluted back or took photographs or video.

The Norma Kae III stopped out at sea, as each person aboard shared a thought about Kugyela.

"This was a guy who you could call at 2 a.m. and tell him 'I ran out of gas on 195!" Meier said, laughing. "And he said, 'You stupid jerk, read your gas gauge! I'll get my socks and pants on and come get you.' " 

"Frank, I love you so much," Meier cried.

Each person aboard took a turn dropping a flower into the ocean.

Then Meier and Cremona carefully opened a black box and removed a plastic pouch containing ashes, all that was left of their friend.

They carefully turned over the plastic bag and, holding it together, let the ashes waft out, some meeting the surf, others catching the wind rising up, like a spirit was lifting them. Cremona held the pouch in one hand and clutched his granddaughter in the other.

They also dropped into the sea their friend's favorite shirt, a Norma Kae shirt that commanded, "Shut up and Fish" on the back.

"This signifies Frank!" Meier said, laughing, shortly before dropping it in.

After the boat ride was over, Meier said, "I feel better now. He's in a better place. He's where he belongs."