Michael Anthony Fletcher
Oct 5, 1965-Oct 12, 2026
Mo Bhréthair Miggy
My brother Miggy was a father first. That role shaped everything else about him. He showed up for his kids with the same quiet steadiness he brought to the rest of his life—whether he was picking up a guitar, watching a baseball game, or standing on a beach before the sun came up.
He loved music. Playing it, listening to it, letting it fill a room. He loved baseball—the pace of it, the strategy, the long afternoons that didn’t need much explanation. And he loved to fish. There was something in the waiting, the water, and the simple act of being outside that suited him.
Most of all, he loved the sunrise on the beach.
For the past 18 months, while he fought colon cancer, he sent me a picture of that sunrise every single morning. Not every day was easy. Some mornings the light was soft and clear; others it broke through clouds. He still sent them. Those pictures became our way of checking in—proof that he was up, that he was looking at something beautiful, that he was still here and still choosing to share it with me.
Miggy found a kind of peace in those early hours. The beach, the water, the first light—it was his ritual and his gift. In the middle of a hard fight, he kept offering that small, steady beauty to the people who loved him.
He will be missed as a dad, as a brother, as a musician, and as the guy who never stopped sending the sunrise. The light will keep rising, and so will the memory of him standing there to see it.
Rest easy, Miggy.