Pat Joe Dolan loved his Guinness; he loved a traditional Irish singsong; he loved his family, including his wife Delea, 10 kids, and at any given time an unknown number of stragglers and hangers on. Most of all he loved when those passions merged.

When that happened memories were made.

I was one of those privileged stragglers, lucky enough to find myself with a front row seat to the joyous spirit that was Pat Joe. It was during a memorable two-week trip to Ireland in the fall of 2007 with Liam Dolan, Pat Joe’s son.

Many Islanders know Liam (his brother Tony also lives on PEI) as the gregarious owner of the Olde Dublin Pub, a Charlottetown institution. On the Island he’s known for his entrepreneurial vigor - a gentle description.

Not so back in his native Ballinasloe, Ireland. There he still calls Pat Joe ‘Daddy’, a surprisingly gentle description from one known for aggressive business maneuvers. But it is also perfectly apt coming from a member of one of the most loving families I’ve been fortunate enough to meet. Pat Joe and Delea were not rich monetarily. But they were rich in the stuff that matters.

Pat Joe Dolan died Monday at the age of 93.

The couple lived in a cozy two bedroom Irish cottage. A peat stove dominates the living room/ dining area. It was in this room where food is cooked and eaten and stories told, that I witnessed one of the most remarkable sights. Sitting on a leather couch by the front window, Pat Joe took Delea’s hand and gently began to sing ‘The Rose of Tralee.’ Her eyes danced despite suffering the ravages of Alzheimer’s. Maybe on some unknown level his soft voice was able to break through…What is clear is their love did not bow to age.

She was lovely and fair as the rose of the summer,

Yet 'twas not her beauty alone that won me.

Oh no, 'twas the truth in her eyes ever dawning

That made me love Mary, the Rose of Tralee.

Pat Joe liked his Guinness, but he didn’t drink it at home. He preferred going out to the local pub for a couple. More often than not when he was out a traditional Irish singsong would erupt. Pat Joe knew a lot of songs.

It was a warm fall evening and he sang the first song, Bridle on the Wall, a country song that didn’t sound very much like country with his strong voice and warm Irish accent. I sang the second. Seven hours later the police were literally banging on the door and the whole bar was joined together in a rousing, if off key, version of ‘The Town I Love So Well.’

Pat Joe was in the middle of it all. Reveling. The only thing he missed that night was the French fries and curry dipping sauce as a late night snack.  So he didn’t really miss anything. For a Canadian raised on Celtic music, this was a night to remember.

Pat Joe Dolan went out the way he wanted, quickly and without pain. He managed to squeeze three sessions in at the local pub in the last week.  He lived his life well. He lived a full life. He will be remembered by his family and friends, and countless others like me who were merely along for a momentary ride.

But Pat Joe Dolan will be deeply missed, for he was a gem of a man who made memories without even trying.