Closer to Terragrossa

Bill Ryan got his wish-he died, and has his wake at Terragrossa Funeral Home in Brooklyn.

On Thursday, November 3, Ryan left his Sheepshead Bay home to pick up some kitty litter. As he drove the streets of Brooklyn in his huge eight-cylinder car, he had a massive heart attack and died. Ryan was always a considerate man, and his car gently rolled to the curb, hurting no one. The police didn't have to guess where to send the body, because the frame on his license plate had the legend ONE DAY CLOSER TO TERRAGROSSA.

Ryan was a Brooklyn Supreme Court legend. He worked there as a court clerk for as long as anyone could remember. He could have left in 1988 at age 55, but he claimed that most people die within three years of retirement.

He had a black sense of humor. People claim he put the word "fun" in funeral. He would never miss a wake, and when someone in the courthouse looked ill, he would give odds on the person's survival. He called the obituaries the "Irish funny papers," and he'd lament how good he'd feel resting in a casket in the ornate Terragrossa.

In 2002, he finally retired at age 69. He had no kids or wife, but he had fun.

Ryan, in retrospect, seems a seer: He died three years after retiring, in just the way he'd wanted to go. He loved his car, and he died driving it toward Terragrossa.

"Thank God for the heart attack. That is how I want to go out. It is like a kiss from God: quick and painless."

He will be missed. He dared not take himself-or death-too seriously.