January 13, 2007
I was surprised when Paula and Keith invited me to speak this morning, after all these years. I am honored. Humbled.
When
I left Manitowoc after high school, I left this place to begin a new
chapter in my life. It is my burden now, as I realize that I never said
thank you. I never said I love you.
But
we came here to celebrate her life, and we have to ask what Cheri would
want for us right now. I think she would want us to heal ourselves and
move on, knowing that death is but another journey, one she has embarked
on before us. Rather than mourn her death, she would want us to
celebrate her life.
I
am reminded of a quote: "People don't make our lives. Loving them
does." The act of loving them. What do we do to make someone love us?
Cheri
was my rock - a foundation during a time when nothing seemed
right. Though, Cheri was an informal personality, she was a
perfectionist. Now, you might think that means she was critical, always
searching for errors, bur you would be wrong. Over time, you would learn
that she simply had the same standard for all the world around her,
which is to say, "high."
With
Cheri, what you saw was what you got. She lived without pretense; she
was a "cards-on-the-table" sort of person. That said, Cheri wanted the
best for her family, and had high expectations of us all. She did,
however, understand our family's idiosyncrasies, our quirks, but was,
never-the-less, inherently devoted to family.
Cheri
was always firm, resolute, sometimes outraged, but rarely sad. And she
was passionate. Passionate about her family. Passionate about her
beliefs. Passionate about her sense of being. As a result, you knew you
were loved. It meant knowing she would always support you, even when she
didn't agree with you. It meant knowing that she expected the best of
you, yet still allowed you to make your own, often necessary, mistakes.
Knowing
her as my aunt, I learned that she was a good friend to have. She was
so much more: a best friend, confidant, and big sister all rolled into
one. Cheri clearly understood our individual uniqueness, talents, and
needs, and gave us the freedom to grow in the direction of our choosing.
Being around Cheri was a feast for both the senses and the heart:
There
were the sounds. Cheri was a 70's child (though I would not wish the
70's on any parent, she made it through ok). I remember one morning I
was asleep on the couch after a night of partying. Cheri
never told me what I could or could not do, but she could always convey
when I had done something I knew I wasn't supposed to do. That morning,
knowing I was likely hung over, she began her routine cleaning, vacuuming
- to the very loud bass of Black Sabbath pounding the walls. I recall
opening my eyes and looking at the fish tank. Even the fish were mocking
me. They were swimming to the beat of the music!
There
was her personality. Cheri grew up in a time of awakening and great
turmoil in America. She was the embodiment of the liberation of the 60s
& 70s. though she retained many of those ideals, she was still very
private and self-conscious.
There
was her home. Her surroundings. Cheri's home is a creative expression
of who she is. I remember her kitchen decorated with a strawberry theme
and themed Christmas trees over the years. One year there was a blue and
silver Christmas tree. She did such fun and happy decorating for the
holidays, just one of many traditions Cheri maintained.
Although
we feel that what we've lost is tremendous: a wife, mother,
grandmother, homemaker, colleague, and friend, what she gave us is
immeasurable.
Paula,
Keith, I can't imagine what it is like to lose someone you love that
much. Know that you are not alone. She is with you. Be true to your own
character and values, as she was to hers, and she will live on through
you and in you.
To Cheri,
You were my mentor and dear friend. You provided me with council and
wisdom, yet helped me spread my own wings and fly. You encouraged me to
succeed, and to pursue things that I didn't know were possible for
myself. You are a definitive part of who I am today.
On a lighter, more musical, note:
I
take great comfort in knowing that you are now soaring with the Eagles,
without the annoyance of the typical, Bad Company. I am glad to know
that the Doors have opened for you, with no Cheap Tricks, allowing you
to rest in a place where an Electric Light Orchestra fills your days,
the sound of Rolling Stones keeps you on beat, and your Sabbath is never
Black. I hope the Old Time Rock continues to Roll your soul. Know that
your spirit will continue to live on in all of us, down here, among the
Earth, Wind & Fire of the living.
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