Remembering Patrick Henry '90

Eleven years ago this past week, Mike and Patrick Henry visited Collegiate as guests of their alma mater’s Parents' Association to share with students and faculty their thoughts and observations – both insightful and hilarious – about their burgeoning careers, their personal and interwoven journeys, and the influences that had shaped their lives.
They were living in Southern California at the time and were successfully immersed in the entertainment industry, most notably generating material for the popular animated comedy series Family Guy. Their lives were moving at a furious pace. Their creative juices were flowing. Ideas and projects abounded. The future was luminescent.
 
For a half-hour or so that day, Mike ’84 and Patrick ’90 sat in my office and spoke into my recorder for a Reflections column that appeared Jan. 27, 2006. Mainly, though, we reminisced off the record, laughed a lot and shared stories of a simpler, easier time.
 
Eventually, the Henry Brothers returned permanently to Richmond where their mother Barbara lives. From the relative serenity of their hometown, they continued to indulge their creative passions and collaborated on several projects including Mike’s successful Family Guy spinoff, The Cleveland Show.
 
All was not good, though. For years, Patrick had dealt with challenging health issues including Type 1 diabetes, which was diagnosed when he was two. Over time, complications had developed. His conditioned worsened. Eventually, his quality of life – and survival, for that matter – rested with the hope of a liver-kidney-pancreas transplant. Stays in intensive care became all too frequent. There was close call after close call, scare after scare.
 
On Monday, Jan. 9, Barbara dropped him off at his dialysis center. To pass the time as he underwent treatment, he dozed off as he often did. He never awoke. He was 45 years old.
 
“His blood pressure dropped,” Mike explained. “Dropped all the way. He went peacefully. He just left. It was his time.”
 
This past Friday, Mike sat in my office as he had in January 2006 and spoke once again into my recorder. Like before, we reminisced, laughed and shared stories, this time about his brother and the lessons he taught through his struggle.
 
Growing up, Patrick lived life with gusto, competed in sports and enjoyed a wide circle of friends, but his health issues always loomed large.
 
“Juvenile diabetes meant his life expectancy might not be as long as people without the disease,” Mike said. “He had to take (twice-daily) insulin shots and be aware of what he was eating. I remember (at athletic events) my mom always having orange slices or a Coke on hand in case his blood sugar got too low. When it did, he’d get cold and sweaty. There was one time, at night in our apartment, when he went into convulsions.
 
“From a very young age, it was sort of a ticking clock. We were aware and managed the best we could. He did his best to manage it while still living a kid’s life.”
 
Patrick played soccer and basketball and excelled in baseball. He was a Tuckahoe Little League All-Star and, in high school, a three-time All-Prep League selection for the Cougars. As a freshman, he threw a no-hitter against Woodberry Forest.
 
Many of his high school friends reached out to him when his health declined and he returned home four years ago. Indeed, his funeral was very much a reunion, albeit a somber, reflective one, for his Collegiate and professional families.
 
“It can’t be overstated how much of a great lifelong family Collegiate provides,” Mike said. “My best friends to this day are friends I went to Collegiate with. Same was true with Patrick. He cherished his friends and would talk about them all the time.”
 
Patrick was a huge fan of the Boston Red Sox and the band U2. He attended James Madison University for two years, then transferred to the Rhode Island School for Design and triple majored in film, video and animation. He lived in New York for a time but spent most of his adult years in Los Angeles. In 1997, he and Mike earned a Clio Award for a Texas-Wisconsin Border Café commercial. He produced and directed numerous short films and documentaries. At the time of his passing, he was filming a piece about the Red Wiggler Community Farm in Montgomery County, Maryland.
 
During his last six months, he worked with Mike on the pilot of a television series entitled Home on the Strange.
 
“Patrick was a great film maker,” Mike said. “He had very, very high standards for all things creative. He helped me make this project as good as it could be. He’d leave dialysis and come to the set. He’d sit there in a director’s chair giving me his thoughts on things and feeling the love from the crew. That drove him and inspired him.”
 
With all Patrick endured for so long, I asked, how did he cope?
 
“I think he held out hope until the very end that he was going to get through this,” Mike answered. “He was very determined. He had to be at dialysis from 10 to 4 Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. On those Tuesdays and Thursdays, he had to go to other doctor’s appointments: the podiatrist, the eye doctor, get a root canal. What I dread was his easy stuff. His body was falling apart, but he fought through it and stayed positive. When people called, he wouldn’t cry to them. He wouldn’t complain. He’d ask how they were doing. As much as his illness was his identity, he didn’t want that to be all that he was.”
 
What can we learn from Patrick? I asked.
 
“The power of kindness and being a nice person,” Mike responded. “He had his health struggles, and, frankly, he didn’t always take the best care of himself. Despite the fact that he had health limitations, he lived to the fullest, sometimes with good results. Other times, maybe he compromised his health. Despite the hand he was dealt, I really believe he lived a full life.”
 
Just too short a life, I said.
 
“Too short a life,” his brother replied.
                  -- Weldon Bradshaw
 
(Please enjoy a slide show about the life of Patrick Henry.)
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