Eulogy For My Brother Tom

I have many stories I could tell you about my big brother Tom. 
Like the one in which he informed my mother--who was pregnant with me--that if she gave birth to a girl, he was going to go live in the barn. 

Maybe, at age 9, he just wasn't ready for another sibling in the household.      Or, perhaps he thought it would be better having another little brother (besides the 2 he already had) than to add any female power to his older sister.  Well, I suppose, that once I was brought home he must have fallen in love with me, because he didn't end up spending even one night in the barn.

I could tell you about when I started first grade, and fueled by either his own concern, my anxiety, or perhaps my mother's instruction, Tom came into my classroom, just before the official dismissal, to collect me and get me onto the correct school bus ahead of the bedlam of running children and numerous busses to choose from in a dusty gravel lot.  I'm pretty sure he did this for at least my first couple of weeks of school.

Or, there was the time that I dropped my lunch money quarters in the tall grass just as the school bus arrived one morning.  Perhaps I began to cry, and so he just handed me his own lunch money without reprimand or comment.

Well---I could go on and on with such stories about Tom from my childhood and adulthood.   But, the theme to all of these stories would center on his loving care for me. 

He was the quintessential older brother. 

Because of our age difference we were not close in the way that siblings who grow up playing and growing together are close.  Our closeness was built on the foundation of his acceptance of the role of caretaker for me-- and mine as trusting of him. 

I cannot recall a single time that he was ever unkind to me.  He must have disagreed with me or been irritated with me at times, but he never let me know that.  He seemed to just love me however I came to him.  He never teased, lectured or scolded, but just used his humor and problem solving skills to help me when help was needed.

There are not many people we can name who give us unconditional love -----and maybe there are equally not many for whom WE give unconditional love.     For the giver, this type of love takes restraint---requires respect---and demands trust.  For the recipient, this type of love gives hope---builds confidence---and can be a foundation of strength in difficult times.  In my belief, it is this type of love that God has for ALL of us. 

Tom gave me unconditional love throughout his entire life, and I can't even begin to express how important this has been for me.   When I was 22 years old and Tom was 32, our parents died within months of each other.  As I navigated through adulthood, Tom's love helped filled in for that tangible and visible parental love that was missing in my life.
           
In the Book of Matthew, Chapter 6, Jesus tells us “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust consume and where thieves break in and steal; but store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth --nor rust consumes-- and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also."   

This passage reflects one of Tom's core beliefs.  It is a concept that he talked about a number of times with me and I know it was an ideology he strived to emulate. 

I feel certain, that right now, Tom is surrounded by heavenly treasures, built out of his love and caring for myself, Vera, their children, the 13 grandchildren who called him Grumps, and so many others. 

Tom's most prized treasures on earth were us
And the beauty of that-- is that he got to take us with him in a sense, as he moved on to a new existence.  
And the beauty for us, is that he will continue to exist forever, where he inserted himself in our hearts.

Life is short, and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel with us, so be quick to love and make haste to be kind. --Henri-Frédéric Amiel


Eulogy delivered at Tom's Funeral - St. James Episcopal Church, Pewee Valley, KY on 8/30/2014


Eulogy For My Sister Liz

My sister Liz was a teacher, and I was her first official student.  Yes-- my first day of 1st grade at
Crestwood Elementary School, Liz, a recent high school graduate, who was preparing to head off
to college at Eastern KY University, was the last minute substitute for Mrs. Coyle, my first grade 
teacher.  You can imagine how special I felt to have my big sister teaching us that day!  But, at that
time Liz didn't plan on becoming a teacher and so followed the course of a history major in college.  
It was only later, when like many college grads, she was trying to find work, that our dear family 
friend Betsy Green suggested she come to Florida, a place where there was a great demand for 
teachers, and where college grads were allowed to begin teaching jobs as long as they also started 
coursework to get their credential.  But, regardless of whether or not this became her career by 
choice or necessity, I believe that all who encountered Liz as a teacher would agree it was 
something she was well suited for and a career for which she excelled.

Perhaps one of the greatest gifts God gives is the gift of helping others recognize and use their 
gifts.  Of the many moving tributes I have read in reference to my sister's many years as a mentor 
to young people, I think one former student sums up the sentiment of many, with the statement, 
"Thank you for showing me that I was worth something." 

In my faith, I believe that God feels we are all worth something.  But, most of us have times 
when we feel we are less than something good.  At those times we need someone to lift us, 
believe in us and inspire us to embrace our worth.  Liz was that person for many.

The effects of this kind of God's work Liz did in her lifetime as an educator are exponential.  
I am certain that each student, friend, colleague and even stranger that she encouraged and 
inspired was moved to do the same for others they encountered along their life path and so on 
and so on and so on --- so that we begin to lose count of all the good that has spread from 
my dear sister.

I also believe that this good continues on like a ripple in a pond that has no boundaries or 
shore to contain its wake.  This image of the continuity of Liz's goodness brings great comfort 
to me in my time of grief.  It also inspires me to reflect on my own sphere influence and
encourages me to focus on building up others whenever I can.  It is not as hard as we might 
think.  My sister was not perfect and we don't need to be perfect in order to do what we can 
with whatever tools and gifts we have been given.  We just need to start today.  We don't need 
to help or inspire everyone.  I imagine that there will be times we fail at this task because our 
own self-interest blinds us to those who need our kind words and encouragement.  We just need 
to lift up one person at a time and hopefully like my dear sister, over the course of a life, we will 
have made some positive difference in this world that, like her, we will eventually leave.

Life is short, and we do not have too much time to gladden the hearts of those who travel 
with us, so be quick to love and make haste to be kind.  --Henri-Frédéric Amiel

Delivered at Liz's Funeral - St. James Episcopal Church, Pewee Valley, KY on 2/22/14


Liz (with me) - dressed for her High School Prom 1965