Dear Terry, I write this letter after having spent the weekend in Indianapolis at your memorial service. Cousin, I can honestly say after hearing what everyone had to say about you that I regret not having gotten to know you better. You were obviously much beloved by so many people and lived your life to the hilt. I heard so many hilarious anecdotes about the kinds of things you did and said that I really began thinking what a loss it is to both your family and friends that you are no longer with us. It sounds like you were sort of a natural comedian who lived life to make others laugh and feel good about themselves and the world around them. I envy your co-workers. They had some particularly funny things to say about you and you sounded like great fun to work for. Of course, when it came to business, you obviously were serious about what you did, but you sure had certain flare, to say the least, that followed you unto death. Terry, the whole weekend was pretty hilarious. Trying to coordinate among all of the relatives when it seemed like no one knew what we were doing or where we were going or when was pretty funny. Thank goodness for cell phones. It at least allowed us to communicate with each other and to try to figure out what was going on, with whom, where and when. And of course, it didn't help that Indianapolis was a pretty busy place this weekend. Your neighborhood had an annual flea market going on, meaning many of the streets were blocked off, making navigation pretty tricky, and then downtown there was a big Shriner's parade on Saturday, making it impossible for us to meet up with those folks staying at the Embassy Suites near the circle downtown (We were sure that you conspired to make your exit when you did so that we had to cope with so much craziness this weekend!). So we had to park the car many blocks away and do what almost felt like what I call the "Indy Death March". We spent much of the day downtown on Saturday, I did a bit of sightseeing at the Eli Lilly Civil War Museum while others sat in the sun and we pretty much killed most of the day in the environs around the hotel area. We went to Happy Hour at the hotel in late afternoon, which stretched into Happy Two Hours, and as people departed for your memorial, John and Emily and I decided to go in one vehicle but Emily and I, staying in your neighborhood, decided we'd best go back to our accomodations and change into warmer clothing, resulting in John, Emily and I being an hour and a half late for the ceremony and missing the entire thing. (And it turned out that we really need not have bothered changing, as it never really got that cool after dark.) Terry.....we had to drive miles out into the middle of nowhere to an unpaved gravel road and then up a long wooded trail to get to where everything was taking place! Talk about remote! At least we got there in time for the reminiscences, so we all got to hear some funny stories about you around a warm campfire. We were joking that you were probably deriding us for being late - your last laugh, so to speak. Well, you certainly had a flare for the dramatic and this time, you did not disappoint. You led us on a wild goose chase to some remote location in the middle of absolute nowhere, only to find out we missed your memorial ceremony. That sounds so like something you'd plan, Terry. But the night was clear, the moon was full and it seemed the perfect way to send you on to the next leg of your journey, wherever that will take you. I'm sure that wherever you are, you're busy singing all those songs you know, leading one heck of a karaoke session up there and drinking plenty of Maker's Mark as well. Rest well, cousin. You led one hell of a life, and now you're on to the next phase, whatever remains beyond time and space. We'll always cherish whatever memories we have of you and we will love you forever. Goodbye, cousin. You're missed. More than you know.
Monday, June 8, 2009
A Letter to my cousin Terry
Dear Terry, I write this letter after having spent the weekend in Indianapolis at your memorial service. Cousin, I can honestly say after hearing what everyone had to say about you that I regret not having gotten to know you better. You were obviously much beloved by so many people and lived your life to the hilt. I heard so many hilarious anecdotes about the kinds of things you did and said that I really began thinking what a loss it is to both your family and friends that you are no longer with us. It sounds like you were sort of a natural comedian who lived life to make others laugh and feel good about themselves and the world around them. I envy your co-workers. They had some particularly funny things to say about you and you sounded like great fun to work for. Of course, when it came to business, you obviously were serious about what you did, but you sure had certain flare, to say the least, that followed you unto death. Terry, the whole weekend was pretty hilarious. Trying to coordinate among all of the relatives when it seemed like no one knew what we were doing or where we were going or when was pretty funny. Thank goodness for cell phones. It at least allowed us to communicate with each other and to try to figure out what was going on, with whom, where and when. And of course, it didn't help that Indianapolis was a pretty busy place this weekend. Your neighborhood had an annual flea market going on, meaning many of the streets were blocked off, making navigation pretty tricky, and then downtown there was a big Shriner's parade on Saturday, making it impossible for us to meet up with those folks staying at the Embassy Suites near the circle downtown (We were sure that you conspired to make your exit when you did so that we had to cope with so much craziness this weekend!). So we had to park the car many blocks away and do what almost felt like what I call the "Indy Death March". We spent much of the day downtown on Saturday, I did a bit of sightseeing at the Eli Lilly Civil War Museum while others sat in the sun and we pretty much killed most of the day in the environs around the hotel area. We went to Happy Hour at the hotel in late afternoon, which stretched into Happy Two Hours, and as people departed for your memorial, John and Emily and I decided to go in one vehicle but Emily and I, staying in your neighborhood, decided we'd best go back to our accomodations and change into warmer clothing, resulting in John, Emily and I being an hour and a half late for the ceremony and missing the entire thing. (And it turned out that we really need not have bothered changing, as it never really got that cool after dark.) Terry.....we had to drive miles out into the middle of nowhere to an unpaved gravel road and then up a long wooded trail to get to where everything was taking place! Talk about remote! At least we got there in time for the reminiscences, so we all got to hear some funny stories about you around a warm campfire. We were joking that you were probably deriding us for being late - your last laugh, so to speak. Well, you certainly had a flare for the dramatic and this time, you did not disappoint. You led us on a wild goose chase to some remote location in the middle of absolute nowhere, only to find out we missed your memorial ceremony. That sounds so like something you'd plan, Terry. But the night was clear, the moon was full and it seemed the perfect way to send you on to the next leg of your journey, wherever that will take you. I'm sure that wherever you are, you're busy singing all those songs you know, leading one heck of a karaoke session up there and drinking plenty of Maker's Mark as well. Rest well, cousin. You led one hell of a life, and now you're on to the next phase, whatever remains beyond time and space. We'll always cherish whatever memories we have of you and we will love you forever. Goodbye, cousin. You're missed. More than you know.
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During the time I was away you've made a serious of beautiful posts that brought a tear to my eye - beautiful memorial to your cousin and your father.
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