I delivered this eulogy at Laura’s memorial
service on Jan. 21, 2004. Why am I showing it to
you now? Partially, because I’m her dad and I’m
proud of her. And partially because so many people
have told me that what I said that day moved them.
But mostly because I believe Laura’s life had meaning
and purpose—and still does! --John Lustig
When a person dies, people usually just
say nice things about them. You listen to the eulogies
and the dearly departed sound like saints—100
percent self-sacrificing, 1,000 percent faultless
and completely unbelievable.
I don’t want to do that when I’m talking about
my daughter. So I’ll tell you right away…Laura was
stubborn. At times she was even bossy. Laura liked
things done correctly and if you messed up…heaven
help you…she let you know it. And she positively,
absolutely hated…eating vegetables.
She was, in short, a typical 10-year-old
kid…in, oh, so many ways.
In other ways, though, she was anything but typical.
Laura was a special needs child. Academics were
largely beyond her. She had limited speech. Her
fine motor control was poor. And many of the most
basic skills in life were simply…beyond her.
But guess what? None of that mattered...because
Laura had a wonderful gift. She made people happy.
And, because of that, Laura rarely seemed truly
limited.
She communicated through smiles, gestures and
pure love. She was so wonderfully happy that everyone
around her had no choice, but to be happy with her.
Her greatest joy was people. And the smile that
lit her face warmed the hearts of friends, family
and total strangers.
I know it's a cliché, but to know Laura
was to love her. She was simply…irresistible.
(And if you could resist her--in my opinion--there
was something seriously wrong with you.)
Laura made more people happy in her 10 1/2 years
than most people do if they live to be 100. She
was a gift and a blessing to my wife, Shelagh, and
our other daughter, Caitie.
A day never passed when Laura didn’t make us
happy. She healed our pain with her smiles. She
gave us unconditional love with her hugs.
And she taught us that life really is a laughing
matter.
I want to hold onto those feelings and lessons
now that she’s gone. I am determined to find meaning
in both her life and her death.
My family and I have had many people ask us if
there is anything they can do for us. I can only
think of this…Be happy. Hug the people you love.
Tell them you love them. And do it as often as you
can…because you never know what tomorrow will bring.