Michael, you were like a brother to me, one whom I was looking forward to getting to know and have around as Ashley and I got older. I’m still realizing how low key constantly reassured I was that Ashley was in good company with you. I thought we’d have more time to get closer as family. My story for a bit was that Hawaii marked the start of a new era, one with more trips, more closeness. But I’m being shown that there’s no time to waste in showing love and expressing appreciation, so here’s my chance yet again.

I remember crashing Ashley’s 21st birthday in Boulder as I was adrift in the world at that time in my life, and you made me feel welcome. You said something that made me feel seen as another person in the world who loves Ashley fiercely.

I remember us three being together in HB and deciding we wanted to make cake. Ashley was obliging, even though she doesn’t like cake. I was secretly stoked to have found a cake-loving sympathizer, and I like to think you were too, especially because of how much discussion you entertained in Vons about which sprinkles to get. You threw down for the cause yourself, two different kinds to be safe.

I loved seeing you in pictures by my sister’s side as the years went on and the anniversary numbers got higher.

You’ll go down in family history as the helpful, gallant fellow who carried that cooler up and down Hawaiian beach slopes and parking lots. These days I’m still crying when I see that flea market shirt we all wore to match each other, and when I see vanilla cake mixes at the store. (or was it funfetti?)

The way you could engage with the seriousness of a situation but still be right there on the edge of being able to make light of it, for the good of the whole room! I was so impressed. It echoes on.

So, thanks for reminding me what’s true and important.

I know this isn't the correct format, but I've been writing a letter to Michael for some weeks now, so I'll be addressing this directly to him.

Michael,

I’ve known you so long that I don’t even remember how we met. You’ve been listed as my brother on Facebook since 2009, so it’s must’ve been around then, if not earlier. What I do remember is that it was so effortless to be friends with you. I don't have any memories of being acquaintances, or friends of friends--as far as I can tell, you've been one of my best friends since the day we met. I was so excited we were going to high school together, because it meant I’d get to spend even more time with you. I remember chatting with you online as you pretended as if you were unsure whether you wanted to go to Loyola or not, just to mess with me.

I remember Friday excursions on the gold line (stopping in Chinatown on the way) and walking to your house from the Fairmount stop, with at least 10 friends. I remember starting Loyola during the SAC days, and ending with the illustrious Bench Crew. The countless sleepovers, the parties, and best of all, the laughs. For 14 years you made me laugh, and nothing was more fun than hearing your iconic laugh. I can still hear it in my head.

I always felt such a close bond with you. It's one of those unexplainable things...our parents didn't know each other before we met, we didn't grow up together, but it felt like I'd known you my entire life. You were a bridge for so many people, including myself. You made a concerted effort to connect me with people. I owe so many friendships to you, which I'd never have if not for you.

You were so good at cheering me up. When my dad died you made such an effort to hit me up and spend time with me because you knew how much I was hurting. You and the rest of the boys got together and helped me, if just for a night, forget some of that pain--you have no idea how much that meant to me.

Last year I got to spend a couple days with you after not being able to due to COVID, and I’ll never forget when you told me: “I love how, no matter how much time goes by, we can always pick up right where we left off.” You would go on to mention it often since then. It’s not easy to find someone so special. I’m glad we found each other. You remain one of the greatest s**t-talkers I’ve ever met—a worthy opponent. I can’t believe we’ll never make fun of Greg or Bmurph again…I guess I’ll have to do that for the both of us now. I can’t believe we’ll never laugh about the iPads again, or do our secret handshake. I can’t believe I’ll never crack your back again. I can’t believe I’ll never see those cute little dimples again. I can’t believe I’ll never hear that laugh again.

Our last moments together were certainly under strange circumstances, but at least we made it into the podcast (if only for a moment). Driving with you up and back from Mikey’s was the highlight of that night for me…some much needed story telling to catch up, and the usual talking trash about all of our closest friends. I’d give anything to be back in that car with you. I had no idea I’d lose you just two weeks later. There are too many “what if’s” and “if only’s” to count that have gone through my head since I got the news. I’m glad I got to take some time away from thinking about what could have been to celebrate what was truly one of the greatest friendships I was lucky enough to be blessed with in my lifetime. It’s true your life was cut short, but what an incredible impression you made with the short time you had. A life cut short, but a life well spent.

I made one promise to your family, the only one I could keep: I will never let the world forget you. You will live on in my heart, in your family's hearts, and in the hearts of your countless friends. I always thought we'd grow old together and be those lame Loyola dads we always made fun of...sadly we won't, but if I ever have kids, you can be sure they'll know their Uncle Mike is keeping an eye on them from up above.

If this were a toast, I'd be raising my glass right now, "To the nights we'll never remember, and the nights we'll never forget." I'll never forget you buddy. Hope you're throwing one back with my pops right now...he taught me everything I know about breaking balls, so I'm sure you two are laughing it up together.

There are so many other memories, so many jokes. I’ll have to write them all down some time. I’ll always miss you. I’ll always love you. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being my brother. Thank you for always bringing joy into my life.

Love you,

Xander

As everyone has said and knows, Michael really did light up a room. I am so incredibly blessed to have known Michael and share so many memories together. Whenever us cousins got together, it would sometimes be awkward and quiet at first. Nine of us, within a ten year age range, different interests, and a lot of awkward middle school phases, but Michael was always there to bring us together. Everyone would gravitate toward Michael. His energy was contagious and he was constantly making us laugh. One of my favorite memories is when all of us were at San Malo in 2010ish, it was the first day and no one really knew what to do or say. Michael challenged Will (who was probably 10ish years old at the time) to play a game called “snake” where it was a race to thread your hands up through the volleyball net. As soon as Will started, Michael immediately pantsed him. You can imagine the shock on everyone’s faces. Will with his hands up in the net and mortified. Everyone laughed. And we couldn’t stop laughing. And this past July, we all went back to the same volleyball court and laughed again, like it had just happened. It’s the silly moments like that where I feel so thankful for Michael, he always brought us together and is to thank for the best cousin memories. I love you Michael, rest in peace.

The first time I ever met Michael was Freshman year of high school during the freshman year football tryout. Since there were hundreds of prepubescent kids running around looking to make friends and an impact during that week, our helmets had our last names written on them. I didn’t have friends at the time so I would just do the drills and stand off to the side. After I crushed a few kids during the drills, I went back to my little corner of the field - then a random little kid came up to me and said verbatim “Manny Serfaty, right?” To which I said “Yeah?” He responded “I know you” and as I opened my mouth to ask how, he had already turned around and walked away. It was the weirdest thing in the world to me, but little did I know I had just met one of my best and closest friends of the next 14 years.

Michael was the guy who brought everyone together, made everybody laugh, gave everyone a place to stay, and sent everyone home feeling good. He was the guy you wanted in the trenches with you, the guy I would look to for advice about girls, the guy who made my entire high school career what it was. He was genuine, witty, not afraid of a damn thing, and always just fun to be around - that never changed. Of course, there are literally thousands of stories about Michael, but the one that really sums him up to me was during our Golden Age of valeting.

For background, there was a summer that Michael and I would valet a few times a week around LA for someone we met on Craigslist. We would typically work events like birthday parties, weddings, etc. and whenever our boss Eddy told us that we were working a special event, we immediately texted each other, figured out who was driving, and looked forward to the night. For me, these were the best times I ever spent with Michael because once the guests all arrived, we would have 2-6 hours of him and me just talking about life, girls, colleges, soccer, and what we looked forward to in the future. Once the event was done we usually stopped at a fast-food restaurant, talked about the cars we drove and called it a night with a pocket full of cash (which luckily we would split 50/50 because although I was the better driver Michael was always the charmer).

There was a wedding Michael and I worked in Malibu one Saturday so we took my CR-V (which had an epic sound system) and blasted Wiz Khalifa and 50 Cent the whole way. When we got there we saw 1 other person working the event. This wasn’t completely uncommon but we looked at each other like “Ok, let’s see what this guy is going to let us get away with tonight…” We got out of the car, buttoned up our white shirts, tucked them in, and changed out of our slides. After running through the game plan and figuring out where we would put the cars, we got to work. When the arriving rush ended, we were sitting on a downed tree just talking like we usually did until a little bit of hunger overcame both of us. We would always send Michael into the event to charm his way into getting us a few free plates of food, but when he came back, he said the food wouldn’t be ready for at least an hour. Without skipping a beat, we looked at each other and knew what had to be done. I grabbed a pair of keys our of our Valet stand and drove to the nearest grocery store which was about 15 minutes away since we were in the middle of nowhere Malibu. After getting the healthy option of Hot Cheetos and his favorite gold fish, I drove that poor wedding guests car back up the mountain to the venue. When I got back, I parked the car, locked it, and walked through the night to meet back up with Michael and the random kid we barely spoke to up until then. I turned the corner to go back to the downed tree and saw him talking to our coworker, but the kid was singing/rapping back to him. As I got closer it became apparent that Michael had made this kid feel so comfortable with him that he started free style rapping (for the second time in his life) to Michael. I handed Michael his gold fish and he lifted his hand as in to say “hold on.” When the guy was done freestyling to Michael from a beat off of his phone, Michael gave him true and genuine constructive criticism, and to me that blip in time represented who Michael was: someone who made everyone he came in contact with feel comfortable enough to try new things and prove that he only wanted the best for everyone around him, no matter how little he knew you. As long as you were happy and comfortable, so was he and that is something so extremely rare.

I can certainly say that there are hardly any people in this world I would rather go into a situation blind with. I will miss him every single day of my life for the impact he had on my life. From making me feel welcome at every high school party, living in basically all of his houses every summer, to being the guy who was happy as a clam just sitting together on the couch silently together. There will truly never be another Michael Breen and the fact that everyone reading this got to know him is something to celebrate.

Linda and my mom Betsy were best friends from college, so Michael and I were raised as brothers. We were long-distance brothers while I grew up in Colorado, except that my mom pushed Linda (and Tom) to move into that house on Oakland, so the Breen’s would live across the street from my cousins, the Moore’s. That meant we could spend every New Years’ together. Tommy was Matt’s age, and I Michael’s, so the four of us became a pod. We’d stay up late telling stories, Michael and I trying our best and frankly excelling at annoying our older, less precocious brothers. The mornings after began with mini pancakes, sausage links, and Sunny D. Yum. Seth singing “Here Comes the Sun.”

Michael had the greatest dimples and the smelliest feet. He moved too quick and did too much, and I guess he didn’t have time to put on socks. (He grew out of this, likely when girls came into the picture!) His laugh was instantly recognizable and contagious.

He would get the most air on a boogie board, usually at the Bel Air Bay Club or Manhattan. He’d wait, timing his approach just right, then sprint like a madman from the beach towards the wave, landing his knees on the boogie board for a brief skim before launching into insane acrobatics. He was impressive.

I eventually moved to South Pas, which meant my SPMS crew and his Holy Family gang could be fake-rivals and fake-fight over the Hi-Life turf. He was ecstatic to have friends all over the place, and even more he loved to connect them with each other. He made everyone feel welcome and included (and cool!).

We then went to Loyola together. He was still cooler, more athletic, and better at talking to girls. Freshman soccer might be my favorite team I’ve ever been on (Michael would take, and make, all the free kicks, then we’d hang out at Chris’ and try smoking his dad’s cigars or climbing out his mom’s window.) He was the glue to the short-lived SAC 5, and he imported Anders into our circle from St Francis. He shaved his head with the volleyball guys before prom, and he still looked good (due to the aforementioned dimples). He was a great friend who pushed our boundaries and encouraged us to experience more of life. I owe so many of my cherished memories to him.

We remained close. Mr. Breen became Tom on a road trip to Idaho after graduation. Michael introduced me to Ashley and some Boulder friends at Coachella in college, and this past year, we met up and caught up at dinners. His birthday is my half birthday, which is a good excuse to dual-celebrate. He was happy, working hard, and cared for and deeply loved the people in his life. He called on Thanksgiving to say he loved me and to plan our next dinner—it was his turn to pick the restaurant, he said.

My last memory with Michael was a dinner in October with Coleman, Manny, Logan, and Henry, where we went to a bowling alley to play pool after. Michael and I snuck off from the group to the arcade to shoot mini-basketballs, play games with all the tokens we could buy, and win prizes from unwinnable machines. Though we should’ve had a lifetime more, I am happy this is my last memory with Michael. To the very end, he was the same smiling, laughing, energetic kid and a great friend and person.

I know you all know this but I just wanted to share that your Michael and his beautiful heart were too majestic for his body to contain. He now exists everywhere. In every mother and father, son and daughter, cousin and friend he’s touched, Michael is whispering to be a loving, kind, compassionate and patient as you were with him.

We met Michael 6 years ago as the boyfriend of our daughter Ashley. As the years passed, we easily grew to love him as he was always warm, polite and respectful towards our family. We could see that he and Ashley loved and cared for each other. We are so fortunate and blessed to have Michael as a family member for a short 6 years. We miss and love you

Michael.

I think it would be best for me to begin back in 1924 or 1925 when Ned Breen and Francis Barker met as grammar school students at Precious Blood Catholic School where they became life-long friends. Fast forward to Kindergarten at Holy Family School when Michael and my son, David, similarly became best friends and happened to be born three days apart. It was truly amazing to discover the depths these two families had in friendship.

Throughout their time spent at HFS they celebrated countless joint birthday parties, took trips to Hi-Life on half days, had (what seemed like) weekly sleepovers, played on the same football & volleyball teams, shared family gatherings, and many other memorable moments. Michael was a happy human being! I was his math teacher for three years and he was a joy to have in the classroom, even though math was not his favorite subject. I could always count on him coming to class everyday with a smile on his face.

My last memory of Michael was when my mother-in-law passed away and Tom and Michael attended the service. I left as soon as the service was over to get to our house for the reception to make sure everything was ready and outside the church this young handsome man came jogging out after me with a huge smile. Michael! He made a great effort to say hello, give me a hug, and reconnect. Michael was truly one of a kind, I love him and will miss him!

Just look at those dimples and the twinkle in Michael's eye! I will always remember him that way. His smile would

light up a room and he would always greet you with a warm hug. A fabulous athlete, amazing friend to many, a wonderful son, and

brother. Michael left a mark on every heart and will not be forgotten. All the love to the Breen family. 😘