NANCY
JEAN AIELLO GEHLEY
June 1947 –
June 2008
Remarks by
Dennis at Celebration of Life, Fairfax Memorial Funeral Home: 5 June 2008
“…in sickness and
in health...’til death do us part”
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Psychologists tell us
that the death of a spouse is probably the most stressful and traumatic
event that a husband or wife will ever face in their lifetime. Likewise,
the loss of a parent through death is often associated with a period of
intense suffering for his or her children. I thank all of you here
tonight for coming out to be with me and Lisa and David and our families
in our time of sorrow. We are also comforted by our belief that my
deceased parents and ancestors – the Sedlaceks and the Gehleys – and especially
Nancy’s deceased parents and ancestors – the Tagliaferris and the Aiellos
– are anxiously waiting to welcome Nancy to her new home.
Our Capital Hospice family
counselor gave us a booklet to help us deal with Nancy’s dying. The
booklet has a short essay that helps remind us that our focus should not
be on our grief. Our focus should be on Nancy.
"Gone From My Sight"
By Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the
seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning
breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty
and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like
a speck of white cloud where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then someone at my side
says: “There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight.
That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she
was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living
freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is
in me, not in her. And just at the moment when someone at my side
says: “There, she is gone!”, there are other eyes watching her coming,
and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”
And that is dying.
Tonight’s remarks started
out in January with the title "A EULOGY FOR NANCY, MY WIFE". After
many title changes since then, in the end, I call my comments simply "A
LOVE LETTER". And the letter begins like this.
DEAR CINDERELLA,
I begin with three words:
SHORT, HAPPY, and JOURNEY. A number of months ago I asked our son-in-law,
the Reverend Jay Angerer, what advice he might give me to help prepare
a eulogy. He told me that he gives the same advice to those preparing
a eulogy as he gives to those preparing a wedding toast: keep it short.
Tomorrow our son will deliver a short eulogy at the end of your funeral
Mass at St. Bernadette. Our daughter Lisa helped David edit those remarks.
As they say in her household, she gave him much assistitude. My love letter
tonight is not so short.
The second word is HAPPY.
Nancy, you were a happy person and you brought happiness to those around
you. When I met you at a dance in Charlottesville, Virginia, in September
1965, you were a happy college freshman. Four years later, in 1969,
you were a happy bride. Two years after that, you became a happy mother
for the first time when Lisa was born in Heidelburg. And 32 years later,
in 2003, you became a happy grandmother when Lisa gave birth to Renee.
Someone sent me an email
sympathy card a while back that contained a sentiment I found very useful
in preparing this letter.
“When I am dead and gone,
do not frown and be sad. Instead, smile and remember me when I was
happy.”
But how are we supposed
to smile when we sit here stressed and traumatized and grieving over the
loss of a wife, a mother, a mother-in-law, a grandmother, a sister, a sister-in-law,
a neighbor, a friend? Maybe I can help your family and friends smile
with a list I made. I call it List 1: People, Places and Things That
Made Nancy Happy. I stopped when the list grew to over 60 items.
Here are just a few.
• Amusement parks
• Beaches
• Carnival Cruises,
castles, canolis, and Cirque du Soleil
• Dancing and drummer
boys from Springfield, Tulsa and Vienna
• Emailing and Entertainment
Tonight
• Family, friends, and
funnel cakes
• Grandchildren, girlfriends,
and gondola rides
• Hot fudge sundaes,
helicopter rides, and the Hubcaps
• Jewelry
• Line dancing
• Movie watching and
marimbas
• Puzzles, painting,
parades, pasta frolla, Peanut Buster Parfaits, and your PT Cruiser
• Roller coasters
• Saxophones, shagging,
snorkeling, S.O.S., and sex (but not necessarily in that order)
• Underwater adventures
with tropical fish and rainbow-colored coral and me
• Water parks, waterslides,
watermelon, and weddings
• Zoos and zucchini
sticks
The third word is JOURNEY.
I borrowed the word from something my father once told me and something
my mother gave me many years ago. My father told me that he thought
travel was a great education. When you travel, you see new places,
meet new people, and learn lessons that you can use in the future.
And if you travel with the same partner for a long enough time, you learn
a whole lot about that partner, too, and about yourself.
My mother’s contribution
to the word JOURNEY comes from a small piece of paper that she gave me
almost 30 years ago. It was an essay by a Southern Baptist minister
named Robert J. Hastings. According to Reverend Hastings, reading
his essay out loud should invoke the feeling and rhythm of riding on a
train. My mother’s father had been a Union Pacific railroader for
49 years, and she often told me railroad stories as I was growing up.
Some of her happiest memories involved riding trains, and she must have
known that some day Reverend Hastings’ essay would have special meaning
for me. Today is that day.
"THE STATION"
By Robert J. Hastings
Tucked away in our subconscious
is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans
the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the windows we
drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving
at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring
from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and
valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village
halls.
But uppermost in our
minds is the final destination. On a certain day, at a certain hour,
we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving.
Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true, and the pieces
of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How
restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering – waiting,
waiting, waiting for the station.
“When we reach the station,
that will be it!” we cry. “When I’m 18.” “When I buy a new
450SL Mercedes Benz!” “When I put the last kid through college.”
“When I have paid off the mortgage!” “When I get a promotion.”
“When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after!”
Sooner or later, we must
realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all.
The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream.
It constantly outdistances us.
“Relish the moment” is
a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm 118 Verse 24: “This is
the day which the Lord has made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.”
It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets
over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are two
thieves who rob us of today.
So, stop pacing the aisles
and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice
cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh
more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station
will come soon enough.”
Reverend Hastings did
not know Nancy, but I am convinced that it was her he was talking about
in the last paragraph of his essay. The Nancy I knew was the girl
eating more ice cream, going barefoot, swimming, watching sunsets, laughing
more, crying less, living life as she went along, and definitely not thinking
about The Station.
And yet here we are at
the station with her, at the station that came much sooner than we thought
it would, or should. How hard it is to smile. To help us remember
Nancy when she was happy, I made another list. I called it List 2: Places
and Sights on Nancy’s Journey That Made Her Happy. There were over 175
places on that list – places in Italy, Germany, France, Spain, Switzerland,
Holland, England and Canada; places in Mexico and the Caribbean and the
Mediterranean; places in North and Central and South America, places in
the wild wild west, places as far east as Istanbul and as far west as Hawaii.
But I came to realize
that List 2 did not need to have 175 places on it. List 2 should be a much
shorter list – a list of the places that made her journey the VERY HAPPIEST.
Those would be the places that involved her family that she loved so much.
Places such as Ashburn, Virginia, and Bear, Delaware; Bren Mar Drive, Barnack
Drive, and Brenham, Texas; Cove Haven, Pennsylvania, and Great Wolf Lodge;
Horseshoe Drive; Moon Glass Court in Columbia, Maryland; Lawrence and Medford,
Massachusetts; Plano, Texas; St. Louis, Missouri; and Tulsa, Oklahoma.
I have a disclaimer to
read about the original list of 175 places.
Despite what Nancy may
have told some of her Best Friends Forever – girlfriends such as Audrey,
Barbara, Jerry, Nancy, Penny, Sandy, Sherry, and Sharon – I want to assure
everyone here present that, in the words of one of our recent 20th century
presidents, I DID NOT HAVE SEXUAL RELATIONS WITH THAT WOMAN in all of those
places. (But I thought about it.)
My father would want
to know what I learned from traveling with Nancy during our 38 years of
happiness, and I would tell him that Nancy taught me 3 LESSONS in particular.
They are what I call the ISTANBUL lesson, the WATERSLIDE lesson, and the
HELICOPTER RIDE lesson.
The ISTANBUL LESSON comes
from the very first cruise that Nancy and I took in 1971 when we were in
Europe.
We took a week long cruise
of the Greek Isles, including a stop in Istanbul, where we took a tour
called Istanbul by Night. So there we are with one other couple in
this very large cab and our driver/tour guide Abdul. Abdul takes
us to this scenic but quite desolate hill overlooking the city. As Abdul
is describing the history of the city, its architecture, its people, Nancy
pulls me aside and says “This place is giving me the creeps.” I asked
“Why?” She said “This is exactly the kind of place where Ali Babba
and his 40 thieves would show up, steal all your belongings, kill you and
chop you into a thousand pieces, and that’s the last time anybody ever
sees you.” I told Nancy “That’s not going to happen to us,” and she
asks “Why not?” I replied “Because the tour book says that we are supposed
to go to a night club and see a belly dancer, and we haven’t done that
yet.”
Nancy gave me one of
those looks that only a wife can give a husband, that Marge Simpson kind
of look that is somewhere between “I can’t believe I married such a moron”
and “It is possible, just possible, that he could be right.” So she
says to me: “OK – go find the belly dancer.” And we did, and it was fine,
and many years later in the ‘70s or ‘80s, Nancy actually took up belly
dancing herself, complete with costume and soundtrack for her dance routine.
I have photos to prove it.
So, Nancy’s ISTANBUL
LESSON is this: When you are cruising on your journey of life and you get
to Istanbul, do not worry about dying or about Ali Babba and his 40 thieves.
GO FIND THE BELLYDANCER!
Nancy’s second lesson
– the WATERSLIDE LESSON – comes from the time we were at Disney World’s
water park in 1983. Nancy is coming down the waterslide. You
can hear her laughter before you can see her. She shoots out of the
waterslide like a cannonball, hits the water, stands up like Bo Derek in
the movie 10, and has a major wardrobe malfunction, just like Janet Jackson
at the Super Bowl. Nancy is not aware that one of her “girls” is
on the loose. She thinks that my wild jumping up and down and pointing
in her direction has something to do with the awesome splash she made.
I point with both hands. She gives me two thumbs up. I wave
my hands in the air. She waves back. Finally, I give her the
international symbol for “nice rack.” She catches on and covers up.
She comes over and says “I am so embarrassed I think I could just die.”
Later that night at dinner, Nancy tells me “You know, of course, that it
could have been worse.” I ask her “How so?” She says “Hey, it could have
been the bigger one that got loose. Or maybe even both of them.”
So, Nancy’s WATERSLIDE
LESSON is this: When you slide down the waterslides of your journey and
you have a major wardrobe malfunction, do not worry. You will not die from
embarrassment. It could have been worse.
Finally, there is Nancy’s
HELICOPTER RIDE LESSON. Nancy and I are on a 3-week rental car vacation
out West in 1994. We are celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary.
We visit the Grand Canyon. We decide to take a helicopter ride.
The helicopter takes off. Nancy has her headphones on and is listening
to Kenny G and snapping her fingers. She is sitting up front with the pilot.
I am in the back seat. The pilot tells us that we are now approximately
2 miles up from the floor of the canyon. I start thinking like Wile
E. Coyote, right after he has gone over the edge of the cliff. I’m
thinking “If that helicopter engine quits, we are goners.” I have
sweaty palms and beads of perspiration. I am thinking about a fiery
crash and burn scene. I am thinking about dying. We finish the ride
and return to the heliport. Nancy says “Wasn’t that the most awesome
thing you ever saw?” I say “Actually, no. Most of the time I was
thinking about plummeting and crashing and burning.” She gave me another
one of those Marge Simpson looks, only this time there was a short
lecture to go with it. “Listen, mister, we did NOT spend good money
just so you could start being a wussy boy. And we are not going to
die on any helicopter ride. If you can’t suck it up, I won’t be taking
you on any more helicopter rides.”
And sure enough, when
we went to the Big Island of Hawaii in 2003, the very first thing we did
was to take a 3 hour helicopter ride over the flaming volcano and the whole
island, and I was not a wussy boy. When we returned to Hawaii in
2005, we took another helicopter ride on the island of Maui. By this
time I was mui macho about helicopter rides.
So, Nancy’s HELICOPTER
RIDE LESSON is this:“When you are on your journey of life and you get the
chance to go on a helicopter ride, do not be looking down and thinking
about dying. Instead, hold your head up, enjoy the view, enjoy the
ride, and enjoy the journey.”
Do you remember Reverend
Hastings talking about the day that the Lord has made? Nancy, too,
was a believer in God. And heaven. And the resurrection of the body.
And all of that is very good news.
Why is it good news?
Because it means that Nancy’s journey does NOT end at The Station. It means
that The Station is actually the place where one journey ends and another
journey begins. It means that The Station is the place where we celebrate
changing trains. The funeral home and the church that we gather at
are not just a funeral home and a church. They are part of something
bigger. They are parts of The Station.
Reverend Hastings began
his essay by referring to an idyllic vision where we see ourselves on a
long trip that spans the continent. I do not claim to be a visionary
when it comes to describing Nancy’s next journey. Whether it is long
or short, it most certainly will be happy.
Rather than speculate
on her next journey, I want to focus on a question that has been of some
concern to Nancy’s older grandchildren, Renee Antoinette Angerer, age 5,
and Matthew David Gehley, age 4. It seems that for the last few months
Renee and Matthew have been having difficulty trying to imagine just how
Nanny is going to get to heaven. Matthew seems to think that it will take
lots and lots of ladders and will take a very long time to climb.
I told Lisa & Becky
to tell Renee and Matthew that Pops has one answer. (I am Pops, by the
way.) Pops says that it will be a very special train that will take Nanny
to heaven. I can not tell Renee and Matthew much about Nanny’s next
journey, because God is in charge of that, but I definitely have a vision
about Nanny’s train. The name of the train is “The Nanny Special,”
and it looks like this.
The locomotive has a
steam engine with lots of smoke coming out of it. It has a special
kind of car behind it to hold water and coal to feed the engine.
Next is a passenger car with the name Nancy on one side and the name Nanny
on the other. The passenger car is painted a brilliant Candy Apple
Red, just like Nanny’s PT Cruiser, with all kinds of shiny chrome trim
and leather seats with butt warmers. Then there is a dining car and a caboose.
The engine is long –
very, very long. It is called a Big Boy, and Big Boys were the largest
steam engines ever made in the United States. Nanny and Pops saw
one of the Big Boys in Cheyenne, Wyoming, in 1996. At the time, we
thought we were just looking at the past. Little did we know then
that we were also looking at Nanny’s future ride. The Big Boy engine and
its tender stretched almost 50 yards – half the length of a football field
- and had a top speed of 80 miles per hour. From front to back, the
Nanny Special would be over 100 yards long.
Even more special is
the crew. At the throttle in the engine is God the Father. In the
passenger car is God the Son, the conductor who looks a little like Tom
Hanks in the movie Polar Express. In the dining car is God the Holy
Spirit. And here is what happens at the station.
Nancy climbs the steps
to the passenger car, where the conductor welcomes her aboard. “Nancy”
says God the Son, “I have 3 QUESTIONS for you before you start your journey.
The first question is “Did you have a happy life?” And Nancy replies “Yes,
Lord, I had a very happy life. Look, I even have two lists to prove
it.” The Lord looks at the lists and says “You had some help with these
lists, didn’t you?” And Nancy says “Yes, Lord, I married someone who likes
to make lists.” Then the Lord says “Nancy, did you make other people happy
when you were on your journey?” And Nancy replies “Yes, Lord, I believe
I did make other people happy. I know I tried.” And the Lord says
“Do you have any proof that you made other people happy? Another list,
perhaps?”
“Silly Jesus” says Nancy.
“I know that this is a trick question.” “What do you mean, “trick question?”
asks the Lord. And Nancy says “Because you already have the list.
You have the list because you were the one who made it up. That is
List 3 – the names of the people who came here to the station to be with
me while I am changing trains. I do not know how many are on the list.
There are way too many people to have their names read, but I have a pretty
good idea of who is liable to be on that list.
They came from all over
the East – from Massachusetts, New York, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Delaware,
Maryland, DC, Virginia, West Virginia, North and South Carolina, Florida,
Ohio, and Missouri.
And if they could not
come to The Station themselves, they sent Bon Voyage cards from places
like Alaska, California, Colorado, Texas and Washington.
And the Lord says “OK,
Nancy, it looks like we are just about ready to go. 3 Words? Check.
3 Lists? Check. 3 Lessons? Check. 3 Questions? Check.
Let’s roll!
Then Nancy says “Lord,
before we go, I have 3 questions for YOU. And the Lord says “OK,
Nancy, that sounds reasonable.” Nancy begins with “Lord, I do not
know how long this next journey will be. May I have an ice cream sundae
along the way? Or maybe a Dairy Queen Peanut Buster Parfait?” And
the Lord replies “Nancy, just go to the dining car and God the Holy Spirit
will take care of you for all eternity.”
Then Nancy asks “Lord,
that cancer thing that I had for the last 30 months of my life was a real
downer. One time I spent 3 weeks in the hospital, looking at nothing but
the ceiling and hospital walls. Could I maybe have a really comfortable
seat on the train, with a really good view?” And the Lord will say
“Nancy, your train has your very own passenger car. You may have any seat
on the train that you would like.”
Finally, Nancy says “Lord,
I am really going to miss driving my PT Cruiser. I am going to miss
going to Delaware to visit Lisa and Jay and Renee and Cole and Pete the
Wonder Dog. I am going to miss going to Ashburn to visit David and
Becky and Matthew and Michael and Dylan the Other Wonder Dog. I am
going to miss taking my Cruiser to Sherry’s to pick up a fresh batch of
home-made cookies. I am going to miss going to Barbara’s for a girlfriends’
lunch out.”
And the Lord says while
tapping his fingers on his clipboard “Nancy, is there a question in there
somewhere?”
Nancy replies: “Lord,
could I drive the train?”
I do not know what the
Lord will answer. And I do not know how long it will be before it is my
turn to show up at the station. What I do know is that the Lord will
be there and he will remind me that my major wardrobe malfunctions could
have been worse. He will remind me to keep my head up and enjoy the
view and the ride and the journey. And then he will tell me to “GO
FIND YOUR BELLY DANCER!”
Nancy often told me over
the years that she thought I was a good writer. She liked my letters
and emails and said that I should have been a writer rather than an auditor,
because I would have been happier. If I am such a good writer, then
how should I end this Love Letter?
I will end it where it
began, on that night back in 1965 when we first met, at a dance almost
43 years ago. When Nancy got back to Longwood College the day after
the dance, she wrote her parents a 10-page letter. Much of it was
about me. Nothing I ever wrote could come close to making anyone
as happy as her letter made me when she eventually showed it to me years
later. Here are a few of the things she wrote:
“That’s when I saw him!...I
said to myself “I would give my eye teeth to talk to him. To me, he was
the sharpest and best-looking boy at the whole party.”
“He is the most fabulous
dancer alive … We made such a perfect pair! … I tell you he’s everything
I have ever wanted! I just wish he could be the one!”
“I am completely snowed,
completely gone over that guy … if, by some miracle, I was able to start
dating that guy regularly, I would marry him as soon as I graduated. To
me, he was it.”
“… he’s got the most
fabulous personality! … And he spent the night at the party with me! I
couldn’t believe any of it! I was Cinderella and I was sure it was all
a fantastic dream!”
“Even if he doesn’t write,
I know I had the most fantastic weekend of my life … Maybe he’s not as
great as I think [he couldn’t be] but he sure is the first guy that made
me really think of marriage! He’s everything I ever dreamt of … maybe,
hopefully, he’s the one!”
“Summer of 1969 after
college graduation, smile proportional to prominent engagement ring.”
Nancy and I married 4
years later. I can still hear her laughter when she told her girlfriends:
“I chased him until he caught me.”
That night in 1965, Nancy,
you were my Cinderella. Tonight you are my Sleeping Beauty. Tomorrow you
have a train to catch. I will be at The Station to see you go.
Before the train pulls away, I say these words to you tonight from the
song that we always played at weddings:
"You Ask How Long
I'll Love You, I'll Tell You True,
UntilThe Twelfth
Of Never I'll Still Be Loving You."
Yours for all eternity,
Dennis
Some People Hate
Their Sixtieth ... Nancy Loved Hers
NANCY JEAN
AIELLO GEHLEY
David's Eulogy
At St. Bernadette Church: 6 June 2008
As Nancy’s son,
David, I feel blessed to be able to speak about my Mother today.
My father Dennis, my sister Lisa and I especially thank you for being here
to help celebrate the life of my mom and to honor her in death! Our
entire extended family truly appreciates all of your support as well…it
has been so comforting. Everyone here understands how special Nancy
was and how thankful she was that she had the many friends and family supporting
her throughout her life. We are fortunate to have you here with us
today.
Mom was one of
those individuals gifted with an enormous personality. She had so
many wonderful character traits, and played numerous roles throughout her
life. Because of how important music has been throughout our lives,
Lisa and I find it fitting to describe that being in Mom’s presence was
like standing in an auditorium, listening to a full band – hearing the
individual instruments, combining notes together to create one full-bodied
symphony of sound. Some days you could swear her “spirit” was emoting
a top 40 hit, or perhaps some upbeat shag song.
Like the sounds
of gentle wispiness of the flute, Mom was a lover. She and Dad were
known to act like teenagers throughout their married years. For this
first recollection, it is important to know that our annual family vacation
was a trip to Ocean City, Maryland, to spend the week hanging out at the
beach. Well, Lisa and I were mortified to learn later in life that
our beach snack “pretzel time,” was really a disguise for Mom and Dad’s
alone and romantic time. As youngsters, we merrily crunched away
innocently on our pretzel snack, watching the Ocean, while Mom and Dad…well…as
we say…T.M.I. – I’m not telling any secrets, though, since many of our
friends know this story and understand how adorable Mom and Dad were as
a couple… even with their “P.D.A.”!
Like listening
to the lively, charming tones of the clarinet, Mom was a dancer.
From an early age Mom loved to dance. We love seeing pictures of
Mom in costume, and Lisa remembers playing dress up with some of Mom’s
great outfits! We grew up with stories of Mom’s dancing performances
and how much she enjoyed dancing. When Lisa or I struggled
with a mistake we made, Mom liked to tell the story of how she managed
to survive the embarrassment of performing an entire dance facing the back
of the stage -- she was so focused on the actual dance steps, that she
failed to realize she entered facing the back of the stage instead of the
audience. Oh well…stuff happens. We grew up with examples of
Mom’s dancing - the belly dancing with all the cymbals -- you go Mom.
And the phase of country western dancing – WOW did we see more accessories
than one person could ever wear (Dad, you’re guilty here too). Lisa
and I will always have fond memories of Mom and Dad’s friends at our weddings
with all of their shag dancing steps.
Like listening
to the mellow, sustained, gentle tones of the baritone, Mom was an advisor.
She was always there to guide us through the good times and the bad.
Sometimes her advice was common sense. Other times she bluntly tried
to “smack” some sense into us! I have to share a fun story where
even in the most ridiculous of circumstances where mom really CAN’T help,
Lisa and I still turned to Mom for advice. Lisa was joining me for
my college graduation trip to Europe, and we had flown in separately to
London. Lisa and I called Mom in the U.S….yes from separate locations within
Heathrow Airport, as we were lost trying to meet each other at the airport.
After several phone calls with each of us…an understatement…Mom finally
exclaimed, “what are you people doing calling me…go find each other!”
Well mom, whom else would we call but our advisor- even across the seas?
Like the strong,
supportive sounds of the tuba, Mom was a protector. From as early
as the age of six, I remember Mom watching me get kicked and punched in
the face at karate practice…however, even with the sight of blood Mom managed
NOT to jump in there herself. After mutual consideration, we decided
to discontinue karate. I think Mom rested a bit easier at night….
I know I did. One of our favorite stories, is how Mom and Dad protected
the house from Christmas-bulb-stealing youths. We will always laugh
when we envision Mom and Dad hiding in the neighbor’s bushes, popping out
and flying down the sidewalk to catch the kids stealing our bulbs for kicks
after coming off the school bus. Mom, thanks for always being our
protector.
Like discovering
the earthy, jazzy sounds of the saxophone, Mom was a homemaker, a job that
she completely mastered. She also ran the home with a sense of humor.
Nothing was ever dull at the Gehley household! Lisa likes to remind
me of the story of us doing homework at the kitchen table, a frequent occurrence
growing up. The whole family was gathered in the kitchen when Lisa
exclaims, “I’ll be right back, I have to grab a book downstairs, will you
still be here when I get back?” We all rolled our eyes, but then
as a joke hid in the small bedroom upstairs. Imagine Lisa’s chagrin
when she returned to find us all gone as a joke! Mom and Dad even
kept homework time fun!
Like hearing the
tap, tap, tap of a snare drum, Mom was definitely a complainer. She
loved to let you know what her comfort level was at any given moment. Although
much of her complaining was interpreted as pessimism…or as we say…“attitudinal”,
Mom ALWAYS had a positive outlook on life. Complaining was just an
easy way to talk more and interrupt, so you could hear exactly how SHE
felt…because that’s what really WAS important. Mom was one of the
few people that could complain while she was in Hawaii but in the same
breathe tell you that there’s no better or more beautiful place on earth!
Like the rhythmic,
steady sounds of the bassoon, Mom was a caretaker. She spent so many
years generously giving her time, love and support to her mother who we
called Bubba. We grew up seeing Mom’s example of loving support for
Bubba. Boy did she set that bar high. Lisa, Dad and I can only
hope that we were able to be as good a caretaker for Mom in her last years.
Like hearing the
climbing, slurring scale on a trombone, Mom was an investigator.
She passed along Bubba’s saying of “get to the bottom of things.”
Mom believed that there were always more facts to be found, one more supervisor
to talk to and umpteen MILLION ways to research things or get the best
bargain! Mom taught us to persevere, and to always remain strong.
Lisa remembers Mom saying “well, you’ll just have to get to the bottom
of things,” when in Lisa’s sophomore year at college the financial aid
department notified Lisa she didn’t qualify for aid….because she WASN’T
a U.S. citizen? Mom assured Lisa that once we “got to the bottom
of things” everything would work itself out! She always had a great
call to action and knew that everything happened for the right reasons!
Like hearing the
rich, full, gentle tones of the French horn, Mom was a teacher. Not
only did she substitute teach many of my classes in middle school and help
us with subjects in school, but more importantly she taught us the “facts
of life”. She taught us how to lead an amazing and wonderful life
and to live by example. She taught us about love, support, generosity,
truth, honesty and courage! Way to go Mom! I still love Mom’s
advice to Becky on our wedding day….”Never go to bed angry”. Thank
you for these gifts, as we will teach our children the same way!
Like the vibrant
and youthful tones of a xylophone, mom was a trend setter. She always
had new and exciting ways to demonstrate her love to her grandchildren.
Whether it be surprise visits, presents or family vacations, Nanny was
the “coolest Nanny in town”. She was our one and only “tricky trickster”.
Our children will forever cherish…her hugs, kisses and generosity.
Like the poignant,
haunting sounds of the oboe, Mom was a believer. She always had a
strong sense of faith. She raised us with the support of God and
taught us how to worship as a family. She taught us how to incorporate
God in our every day lives and to believe in God’s plan, whether or not
it agreed with the plan we had in mind. As a family, we would hold
hands as we recited the Lord’s Prayer at mass. She even managed to
keep a straight face when Bubba had a kneeler dropped on her foot during
service, and yelled out “Jesus” loud enough that everyone within the church
heard as well. Dad tried to deescalate the faux pas, by following
the “Jesus” with “Where? Where?” Although we take God seriously, we didn’t
always have to take ourselves seriously too!
Like hearing the
triumphant blast of a trumpet, Mom was a fighter! Mom conquered adversity
with a bold brash style. She fought her illness with purpose.
Her email updates were always a “hoot,” often more graphic than we needed
but always with an underlying message of strength, hope and optimism.
Everyone here knows how hard Nancy fought this disease and should remember
her strength, but more importantly, to DRAW from her strength in our own
struggles. Picture Mom in one of her fancy hats fighting to go on
one more vacation!
Like hearing the
applause of the audience after a performance, Mom was our biggest fan and
our cheerleader. She supported us in anything we did. She always
said we made her proud, regardless of outcome….even if we did COMPLETELY
embarrass ourselves. I’ll never forget one of the swim team meets
when I false started before the gun went off. The point spread between
teams was tight and our team needed a winning performance. As I dove
into the water…yes, by myself…and tried to disappear within the silence
of an empty pool, I resurfaced to the sounds of a crowd murmuring, but
among it all I could hear my mother clapping and yelling…”don’t worry honey,
you’ll still get em”. Thank you Mom….I hear you among the crowds,
now and always!!
We saw Mom as
a lover, a dancer, an advisor, a protector, a homemaker, a complainer,
a caretaker and an investigator. She was a teacher, a trend setter
and a believer. And yes, she was a fighter. She was our best
friend, our biggest fan and a bundle of energy that will forever live through
us and within us. All the roles she played wove together to make
a brilliant, larger than life personality. We know that the tones
of her life’s music will continue on. As Bubba liked to say to Mom
“visualize this” or “see the picture in your head.” So, picture a
beautiful, peaceful, tremendous song that encapsulates Mom’s spirit, and
know that it will continue on through us.
I thought for
quite some time of what would be the right thing to say on this day…and
it’s really quite simple – you knew my mother. As my father has said
countless times….”that’s the beauty of mom’s legacy.”
|

REMARKS
BY FRANK M. AIELLO
AT CELEBRATION
OF LIFE,
FAIRFAX MEMORIAL
FUNERAL HOME,
IN MEMORY OF
HIS BELOVED SISTER,
NANCY JEAN AIELLO
GEHLEY
5 JUNE 2008
Since I know that
Nancy’s husband, Dennis, has many heartfelt thoughts about Nancy that he
wants to share with you, I will keep my comments brief.
When I was a little
boy, no more than eight or nine, my parents would trust me to watch out
for my little sister, Nancy, who was four years younger than me.
It wasn’t very hard to do, because Nancy was an adorable child. She
was the personification of innocence, although even then she had a knowing
twinkle in her eyes, and she trusted me completely, listening carefully
to whatever I could teach her. I felt so proud to be Nancy’s protector
and teacher.
As Nancy grew
up, I watched her change into a self-confident, smart, no-nonsense, can-do,
loving and lovable teenager and then woman. She no longer needed
me to be her protector or her teacher. In fact, she taught me a number
of things over the years, including goodness, love, the power of positive
thinking and maintaining one’s sense of humor and courage in the face of
adversity. She even taught me how to do the jitterbug (to the tune
of Purple People Eater, for those of you who can remember that far back).
Although I was
a bit sorry at the loss of the role I previously played, I reveled in the
strong, independent person she was becoming. I watched traits of
my parents become a greater part of her personality. From my mother,
“Bubba,” Nancy got her spark, her spunk and her zest for life. From
my father, “Pookie,” Nancy got her quiet, rocklike strength, her ability
to solve problems and her willingness to tackle any handyman challenge
and get the job done with dispatch. Nancy could take things apart
and put them together in ways I never could.
Our family was
thrilled when Nancy met and married her soul mate, Dennis, who could help
her fulfill her dreams and become more than my sister and Bubba’s and Pookie’s
daughter. In Dennis, Nancy found her perfect dance partner – literally,
as well as figuratively. They celebrated each other in so many ways,
and their mutual love of dance and music added an extra dimension to their
partnership.
And then they
were blessed with wonderful children and grandchildren.
Nancy was a very
kind and loving wife, mother and grandmother. And in turn, her husband
and children and grandchildren adored her and did everything they could
to give her a happy life and ease her transition to the place where she
waits, with her sweet smile and her laughing eyes, for all of us.
Many people say
that my sister was heroic in the way she battled cancer over the past 30
months. Her courage, fearlessness and good humor in the face of death
was deeply moving and should inspire hope in all of us. Although
I, as her former protector, regret that I could not spare her the challenges
she faced over the last 30 months, I know that all of our collective love
and support and Nancy’s faith in God comforted her. And we should
all rejoice that Nancy is together again and at peace with Bubba and Pookie.
Although Nancy
was truly heroic, her husband and children are also heroes. They
did everything humanly possible to help her fight this terrible disease,
and to make her final days and her passing easier for her, when it was
clear that she could not win the battle.
Accordingly, my
wife Susan and I would like to take this opportunity to publicly acknowledge
the heroism of Dennis, David, Lisa, Becky and Jay, and to thank the other
members of the immediate family and all of you, Nancy’s very good and loyal
friends, for helping them to take such good care of our Nancy. |
With
Love, to Nancy
(June 7, 1947
- June 1, 2008)
from her friend
Barbara Bass
Nancy, we’ve been
friends, as you told the home health nurse, “a long time.”
Your life was
always a whirl of activities, though you took care to fit me in. When we
went out for lunch, you drove up as solid, shining, vividly real, and ready
to roll as your PT Cruiser. You wore necklaces, bracelets, and rings of
gold, platinum, diamonds, rubies, and aquamarines—treasures born of the
earth, each one of them bold, bright, beautiful, and totally real, like
you. Your manicured nails were the crimson of azalea blossoms. You were
color coordinated, well-groomed, and accessorized. You were always on time.
You smiled and said, “Hey!” You made me decide where to eat.
I was rarely busy
with anything that didn’t come down to daydreaming, but more than once,
even in winter, I flew out of the house not ready and carrying my shoes.
As for how I appeared, to you, at first I didn’t understand it. I didn’t
even quite grasp the fact of it. Even in the unaccustomed mode of meeting
the world right side out, face painted, fully dressed, and with shoes on,
I don’t have your reality. But I loved your company, enough so that you’d
eat and then sit there and wait for me to notice my food. Early in our
friendship, discovering I paid better attention to our conversation than
to the road, you insisted you’d do all the driving.
We recognized
each other not merely by eyes and ears, but heart to heart. And yet I’m
an introvert, while you were a party girl. I’m scattered, vague, and meandering;
you were focused, definite, and straight to the point. Unlike me, in or
out of your Cruiser, you were a hotshot at getting where you wanted to
go. When we went to Costco, you’d scoped out all the merchandise and got
all your shopping done before I got past the visual overload. Your life
was a lusty love affair with the physical world—the sensual extravagance
of rich desserts, clothes and jewelry, music and dancing, cruises and beaches,
hot tubs and Dennis. Given to passionate emotional involvements, you were
open and expressive, gutsy, big-hearted, loyal, and devoted to family.
You were, in a
word, at heart as well as by blood, a true Italian.
In a salute to
your Italian origins, in May of 2007 you and Dennis set sail on the Mediterranean—a
Carnival cruise. Inviting me along, in virtual mode, you gave me a series
of day-by-day Carnival Web links. I clicked on the links, and every one
of those sun-drenched, earthy, colorful, vibrant, beautiful Mediterranean
cities and seaboards looked just like you.
This past Christmas
you gave me a plaque. It said, “Barbara and Nancy: Friendships like memories
are treasures of the heart.”
When I thought
you didn’t know me anymore, you called me by name. For my May birthday,
twenty-one days before your upcoming June one, you signed a card you’d
picked out for me during your winter visit to Myrtle Beach. The card said,
“Every night has its day. Every valley has its mountain top…”
Your signature
said "Nancy."
This past month,
whether I got to see you or not, every day I’ve worn the pendant you brought
me from Italy. It’s not a treasure born of the earth, like you. It’s an
artifact, an expression of something intangible, a montage composed mostly
of blues. I believe it’s how I appeared to you.
My nature is sky,
yours was earth. I’m wispy clouds; you were solidity, clarity, and life
at its bravest and bloomingest. You loved me anyway, or maybe—like me—you
loved what you weren’t. I’ve always approached life by standing at the
edge of it and maybe sticking a toe in, the rest of me undecided.
It’s ironic that
I’m still here in the flesh and you’re not. As someone made to dream, I’ll
make the best of it that a dreamer can make. I treasure your memory and
celebrate your friendship—Nancy Gehley, who leapt into life with both feet,
wholehearted, and danced. |
Nancy
Eulogy
Mary Anne Allman
Nancy and I met
at Longwood College in 1967 where she roomed down the hall from me with
an old high school friend. Even at our first introduction, Nancy was vivacious
and friendly. She had the ability to virtually light up a room or a group
of people with her presence. This ability remained with her all of her
life as we can attest. Nancy loved life and it showed.
When Nancy and
Dennis started dating, Don (my future husband) and myself would join them
on double dates (e.g., Skyline Drive) where we would laugh and joke and
simply enjoy each other's company. Later, Nancy and Dennis attended our
wedding and Don and I attended theirs.
We watched as
they left in their brand new car for their honeymoon in the Poconos to
start their brand new life together. We watched them later as they left
for Germany, compliments of the United States Army. Nancy and Dennis traveled
extensively throughout Europe during that time and even enjoyed a couple
of Oktoberfests while serving their country, of course.
After their tour,
they arrived back home with a baby girl named Lisa. While Dennis did some
time in Viet Nam, Nancy put their new home in order in Springfield. And
then along came a baby boy, David.
Don and I, as
young marrieds with two small children ourselves, had some wonderful times
with the Gehleys ... dinners, birthday parties and get-togethers ... but
best of all, Nancy was always my friend. As the years passed and busyness
took charge with husbands, children, extended family ...life in general
... Nancy and I would go for times where we were not in contact as much.
But the great thing about Nancy, and Dennis, too, is the comfortable relationship
we had .... no matter how much time had transpired we could always pick
up where we left off.
Something that
I would like to mention, besides my friendship with Nancy, is her character.
She was a loving, supportive wife, a loving mother, a loving grandmother
who adored her grandchildren. She was also a good and faithful daughter
to her parents.
Nancy's father
died suddenly in the 70's, but her darling mother lived several years more.
When Irene needed
a ride to go shopping, run errands, go for a doctor's appointment or anywhere
for that matter, Nancy was there for her. Nancy was at her bedside caring
for her as she lay ill and dying. To sum it up, Nancy honored her father
and mother. She modeled to you, Lisa and David, what a good daughter and
son should be, what a good wife should be and what a good parent should
be. This is one of the greatest gifts you could receive. And it is a gift
that keeps on giving because we see this model being walked out in your
own lives. This is an inheritance from your beloved mother.
Most importantly,
I would like to mention Nancy's faith in Jesus. The courage with which
she faced cancer was rooted in that faith and the belief of a loving God.
She told me several times that she knew that her days were truly in His
hands and that whatever the outcome, she accepted His will. How wonderful
to have that kind of confidence and trust in God's plan. How many of us
sitting here would say the same? Jesus made a promise to Nancy Jean Aiello
Gehley and to all those who have accepted Him as Lord and Savior. He said
that none of these would perish but that all would have eternal life. Nancy
has not perished; she is with the Lord and is more alive now than she has
ever been.
There is a song
that reminds me of Nancy and her entrance into heaven. (I won't sing. for
which we can all rejoice, but I would like to read the words).
I Can Only
Imagine
I can only imagine
what it would be like when I walk by Your side.
I can only imagine
what my eyes would see when Your face, is before me.
Surrounded by
Your glory what will my heart feel?
Will I dance
for You, Jesus?
Or in awe of
You be still? Will I stand in Your presence?
Or to my knees
will I fall? Will I sing Hallelujah?
Will I be able
to speak at all?
I can only imagine.
I can only imagine.
I can only imagine
when that day comes
And I find myself
standing in the Son.
I can only imagine
when all I will do is forever, forever worship You.
I can only imagine.
I can only imagine.
Nancy so loved
to dance here on earth...I believe that she is dancing in heaven.....and
I know that the Lord is taking great delight as she dances before Him.
We miss you dear
friend. |
NANCY
GEHLEY: UNFINISHED BUSINESS
(The Gift of
Love)
A Tribute Delivered
By Dennis At The Northern Virginia
Shag Club 13th
Annual Capital Shag Classic: 26 July 2008
What you are about
to hear, and see, is something that often made Nancy a little nervous.
Me, in the DJ booth, with a microphone in my hand. And the Power switch
is in the “On” position. Nancy would give me what I eventually came to
call “The Look.” “The Look” meant three things: 1) Nobody is listening;
2) Nobody cares; 3) Put the microphone down. They just want to dance.
Tonight, I hope
you do listen. I know that you care.
Following is a
tribute to my wife. I call it my 5 Minute Countdown to Love.
A
Reading from the Book of Sisters
“Did you know
that I longed for that smile on your face?
For the sound
of your voice ringing true?
Did you know
I grew stronger and better because
I had merely
touched shoulders with you?
I may not have
wealth; I may not be great,
But I know I
shall always be true
For I have in
my life that courage you gave
When once I rubbed
shoulders with you.”
A
Reading from the Book of Friendship
“Sometimes in
life,
You find a special
friend;
Someone who changes
your life
Just by being
part of it.
Someone who makes
you laugh
Until you can’t
stop;
Someone who makes
you believe
That there really
is good in the world.
Someone who convinces
you
That there really
is an unlocked door
Just waiting
for you to open it.
This is Forever
Friendship.”
A
Reading from the Book of Michael
“I can not say
and I will not say
That she is dead,
she is just away.
With a smiling
face and a wave of hand,
She has wandered
into a far off land.
That leaves us
thinking how very fair,
It needs must
be if she lingers there.
And you, oh you,
who the wildest yearn,
For the old time
step and the glad return.
Think of her
fairing on, as dear
In the love of
there as the love of here.
Think of her
still as the same, I say
She is not dead,
she is just away.”
A
Reading from the Book of Dennis
She was
Woman,
Hear her roar.
She was earthy,
and beautiful,
And so very easy
to adore.
I was her Tarzan,
She was my Jane.
We met in college.
We were
never the same.
And, that was
a good thing.
I was her Roy
Rogers,
She was
my Dale.
We danced in
the barn.
We rode
the Happy Trails,
And we danced,
and we danced, and we danced.
I was her Kermie.
She was my Miss
Piggy.
DON'T GO THERE!
I was her Homer.
She was my Marge.
Our daughter
is Lisa, our son, David.
And, we lived
in Springfield.
She was my Lady
Soul.
She made my life
complete.
She was my PT
Cruiser,
And I was
her pothole.
I was her DJ
And she was my
favorite song.
She died with
her wedding rings on
As I was holding
her hand.
She died with
dignity,
Surrounded by
her family,
And in the presence
of God.
Nancy was a smiling,
laughing, giving person.
She was positive,
positive, and positive, in everything that she did.
Her happiest moments
during the last 12 years were moments with the people in this room.
People from the
Steel City Boogie Club in Pittsburgh when we played music for Charlie and
Jackie. And they danced.
People from the
D.C. Hand Dance Club, the night that the Band of Oz opened for Nancy and
Dennis. And they danced.
People from the
Northern Virginia Shag Club, who gave us a surprise Wedding Party. And
they danced.
Nancy could influence
people with her smile and her laughter and her good heart.
She gave her heart
to me. She gave her whole self.
Before she died,
Nancy asked only three things of me.
She asked me to
take care of myself. And I am. Just ask my Associates.
She asked me to
take care of our family. And I am. Just ask Lisa and David.
And she asked
me to be kind to her friends. And I am. Just ask Pat, Barbara, Sherry,
Jean, Penny, Julene and Hilda.
Her family and
her friends are grieving now, with tears of sorrow.
But believe me,
with God s help, those tears of sorrow will be replaced with tears of joy.
It is happening
to me. It will happen to you. If you let Him help you.
Elizabeth Kubler
Ross wrote that we who loved Nancy the most will grieve forever, until
we see her again. So be it. Nancy would say Deal with it, crybabies.
LOL
Life is
not about how to survive the storm, but how to dance in the rain.
My time is almost
up. I leave you with three thoughts.
An old African
Proverb says When you pray, move your feet. That seems to me
as if it means dance. That is what Nancy would want us to do.
The Tuscarora
Indians have a saying: They are not dead who live in the hearts they
leave behind.
Finally, God tells
us that one day, we will all be with Nancy again. And with Him. For all
eternity. I hope you believe that. I do.
And remember:
I am the messenger. Nancy is the message. Nancy was, and is, The Gift of
Love.
Pause.
I have in this
bag what is sometimes referred to as Christmas in July. In the bag
are gifts from Nancy. Kelly Mann is Nancy's courier tonight. She will give
you Nancy's gifts later in the evening.
And now, let s
have a nice round of applause for Gary and Robbi Mann.
Gary and Robbi
will dance to a song by Ron Holden titled LOVE YOU SO.
I dedicate this
song to Nancy in her memory.
If you listen
closely, you will hear Nancy and Lisa playing saxophones in the background.
And that is David on the wood block. A chip off the old block, you might
say.
Gary and Robbi
Mann, ladies and gentlemen.
LOVE YOU
SO
by Ron Holden
My darling, I
love you so
More than you’ll
ever know
Each night I
kneel and say a prayer
Hoping when I
wake you’ll still be there
I need your love
with all my heart
Promise me we’ll
never part
We have a love
that’s sure to be
True love for
all eternity
Always remember
my love is true
No matter what
I may do
And stay in this
heart of mine
Until the very
end of time
My dearest, I
beg of you
To keep this
love so plain and true
I ask the Lord,
Lord up above
To never take
away our love
No matter what
I may do
Remember my love
is true
We have a love
that’s sure to be
True love for
all eternity
|
NANCY
JEAN AIELLO GEHLEY
CLOSURE
("My Angel Baby")
Remarks By Dennis
At Nancy's Inurnment
At Arlington
National Cemetery: 13 August 2008
Several months
before Nancy died, I looked into her eyes and I told her that I was going
to miss her. I said to her “I am really, really going to miss you.”
Several weeks later, she was sitting in our living room during a family
meeting with our Hospice counselor. Nancy smiled, and with her beautiful
grin and sparkling eyes, said to everyone “He said he was going to miss
me.” Not long after that meeting, Nancy stopped speaking with her words
and began speaking only with her eyes.
Today I have the
privilege of reading to you two poems which, I believe, express what Nancy
would say if she had words to say them. Instead, I will read them for her.
My
Memory
I’d like the memory
of me to be a happy one.
I’d like to leave
an afterglow of smiles when life is done.
I’d like to leave
an echo whispering softly down the ways,
Of happy times
and laughing times, of bright and sunny days.
I’d like the tears
of those who grieve, to dry before the sun
Of happy memories
that I leave when life is done.
Remembering
Me
Look for me in
your mind’s eye
Smiling as we
often did together.
As I gently wave
goodbye
Be assured our
parting is not forever.
You’ll hear me
in the giggles
Of children as
they play.
I’ll be in the
sense of wonder
On a Merry Christmas
day.
When the winter
turns to spring
Each petal covered
with dew,
I’ll be in the
flowers that you bring,
Our moments together
far from few.
Look for me in
your mind’s eye
Though details
of my face will fade
As time does
surely go by
Recall each memory
that we made.
Finally, I now
read a poem from all of us, and especially from me, her husband, to Nancy.
I
Will Love You
As long as I can
dream,
As long as I
can think,
As long as I
have a memory,
I will love you.
As long as I have
eyes to see,
And ears to hear,
And lips to speak
…
I will love you.
As long as I have
a heart to feel,
A soul stirring
inside me,
An imagination
to hold you …
I will love you.
As long as there
is a time,
As long as there
is love,
As long as I
have breath to speak your name
I will love you.
|
GEHLEY, NANCY
JEAN AIELLO
DATE OF BIRTH:
06/07/1947
DATE OF DEATH:
06/01/2008
BURIED AT: SECTION
7-N ROW 6 SITE 3
ARLINGTON NATIONAL
CEMETERY
WIFE OF
GEHLEY, DENNIS MICHAEL
CPT US
ARMY
I
"met" Nancy and Dennis through Nancy's brother, Frank, with whom I worked.
When I heard of Nancy's struggle against the terrible illness she had contracted,
I asked Frank if I could contact her. Frank said, "Sure," and gave
me her e-mail address and phone number and a "long-distance" friendship
soon followed. When I learned that her beloved parents were buried
in Arlington National Cemetery, Nancy and Frank provided me with the information
that led to a remembrance to them here on this humble website.
As Nancy's illness grew worse, and
we discovered that Arlington could be her home for eternity, she made me
promise to work with Dennis, David, Lisa and Frank on her own remembrance
here on this website. I made her that promise way back then and now
Nancy that promise is coming true. I think that you knew it would
be kept after the initial heartbreak that you knew we would all feel had
been diminished ever so slightly with the kind passage of time.
Well, here it is , Nancy, and I couldn't
leave it without adding my contribution of a song that I e-mailed to Dennis
not long after I received that terrible e-mail from him that you had left
us. From all of our talks and our e-mails, I thought that this song
somehow captured your spirit, so here it is, "Sailing Around The Room,"
by EmmyLou Harris.
I'm hoping that your family will
indulge me with the last words here on the remembrance of the best friend
that I never got to meet.
Here's wishing you peace and love
in that wonderful place where we all get to go someday if we are as good
and kind and loving and graceful as you were while you were among us.
Michael Patterson, April 2009 |
Webmaster: Michael
Robert Patterson
Posted:
1 May 2009
|
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