2023 Scholarship Presentation

 

This is the second year back to live presentations of scholarships at the high school awards nights. I have to admit, I enjoyed the respite during COVID. The awards presentations have always fallen during hell week; the week where the anniversary of Emma's death, her birthday, Father's day and our anniversary are all just days apart. We were glad that awards night was so much earlier this year and our anxiety and grief hadn't yet reached a fevered pitch.

We gave the same speech we gave in 2019 and last year, but I'll share it below anyway. We were pleased when the principal at Emma's high school took us aside after our presentation to tell us how much more they were doing in terms of suicide prevention in the last several years. "You guys were at the forefront of this effort," he said, "and we've come a long way." That was a gift.

The two young men who received the scholarships this year seemed genuinely honored, moved and grateful. The winner from Emma's high school told us that he often sits on Emma's bench. That was another gift of the evening. When you lose a child, you really want to know that they are remembered and that their presence continues to be felt. I'm grateful that her bench in the high school's courtyard continues to bring comfort and connection. We love you, EJ <3

Scholarship Presentation

Good evening. My name is Peter von Euler and this is my wife, Nancy. In a little over a week we will mark the 14th anniversary of the loss of our daughter, Emma, at age 17. In the days immediately following Emma’s death, we were faced with making the unimaginable decision about where memorial gifts should be made.  Needless to say, we were not prepared with an answer. But we pretty quickly zeroed in on the idea of establishing a scholarship fund with the High School Scholarship Foundation of Fairfield. Emma was a bright, beautiful, kind and talented young woman who loved music. We hoped that the financial support from this scholarship would provide a little help and encouragement for students like Emma to pursue their dreams. In the 14 years since we established this fund, and largely thanks to the generosity of all the people whose lives were touched by Emma’s, we have awarded close to $55,000 in her name

Nancy: As we approached the first scholarship award ceremony a year after her death, we realized that this scholarship presentation also provided an opportunity to briefly talk to the graduating seniors each year about something that we think is really important. 

You see Emma died by suicide, and suicide prevention is now a mission for us.

So tonight, we want to share just 6 pieces of information and advice. We promise to be quick.

Peter: # 1 – In 90% of deaths by suicide, the underlying cause is a diagnosable, although sometimes undiagnosed, mental illness. Like physical illness, mental illness comes in acute forms, like pneumonia, and chronic forms, like diabetes. It is nothing to be ashamed of and in all forms it is treatable. 

Nancy: #2 – Perhaps it’s obvious, but the organ mental illness attacks is your brain – the organ you trust to generate your thoughts and feelings. With people who suffer from suicidal ideation, their brain turns against them. If your brain starts telling you that you aren’t good enough or that the world is better off without you, tell someone, because that’s a symptom of illness, not rational thought, and it can be treated.

Peter: #3 – If a friend tells you they are struggling, assume you are the only one they have told. As a friend, your job is to listen, support, encourage, and report – but not to diagnose, advise or fix. That’s the job of the pros.

Nancy: # 4 – Know where to get help before you or a friend needs it. In fact, pull out your phones right now if you have them and put these numbers in them. To reach the National Suicide Prevention hotline all you need to dial is 988. If you prefer texting, you can text HOME to 741741.  I hope you never need these numbers, but if you or a friend is in crisis, it’s good to know that help is just a call or a text away.

Peter: #5 – Be kind. Everyone struggles at some time or another and you can’t always tell that someone is struggling. Imagine people carrying an invisible backpack filled with their burdens and think about how you can lighten their load, if only for a moment.

Nancy: And last, but not least, #6 – Embrace your whole self, not your social media self. Until we all start posting pictures of what we look like when we roll out of bed, or about the exam we failed, the goal we missed, the argument we started, and the rejection letters we collected, our social media presence will only reflect the shiny surface of who we are as people. Your parents will post a picture of your newly set up dorm room this fall, but take my word, they are not going to post a picture of what it looks like when they pick you up at the end of the year! And yet that end of year photo would tell me so much more about you – for example, that you hadn’t done laundry since Thanksgiving. But that’s okay! Every weakness is an opportunity to grow.  Every failure is an opportunity to learn. Being perfect isn’t all its cracked up to be and as Emma herself liked to say, “normal is just a setting on a washing machine.”

Fairfield Warde High School:

Cole Davin is known for his kindness and empathy. He has been active in Warde’s music program as a member of the Jazz band, Concert band, Chamber Orchestra, Symphonic orchestra and the Music Honor Society. He will be attending the Frost School of Music at the University of Miami where he will major in Media scoring and production.

Fairfield Ludlowe High School:

Kyle Geriak has been very involved in music and performing arts during all four years of high school as a member of the Concert Orchestra, Concert Choir, a Section Leader of the Chamber Choir, a Director of FLHS A Capella, and a section leader in the Chamber Orchestra. Kyle serves as president of both the Tri-M Music Honor Society and the Key Club and is a member of the drama club, Ludlowe Leaders, Math Honor Society, National Honor Society, Performing Arts Club, Kindness Ambassadors, Science Honor Society, and Spanish Honor Society. 

Happy New Year

I have never really liked New Year's Eve. Well, that's not entirely true. When I was little my parents hosted an annual New Year's Eve party and I really enjoyed eavesdropping on the conversation and soaking in the laughter from the top of the stairs long after I was supposed to be asleep. I would make my way down just before midnight, pretending that I had been awakened by their loudness. I was always allowed to stay, don a crown or hat, and take part in the horn blowing and hugging. 

You would think that would carry into a fondness for the occasion as an adult, but it never did. As an adult, New Year's Eve never seemed to live up to the weight of my expectations. I may have had some responsibility for that. My first year out of college my housemates and I threw a New Year's Eve party. We had plenty of champagne, but shockingly little food and no guests. No guests? That's right, zero guests. We each thought the other had done the inviting so, not surprisingly, no one showed up. Did I mention that our pipes had frozen when we were all away for Christmas and we also had no running water or working toilets? Happy New Year! If you had any lingering doubts of the scientific evidence, this story should confirm for you once and for all that the brain of a 22 year-old is not fully developed. 

My niece summed up my feeling perfectly when she was about 8. We spent New Year's Eve day that year making noisemakers and hats with Emma and my nephew and niece in advance of an 8 pm children's celebration of the grand occasion. We gathered in the living room at about 7:50, donned our homemade hats, grabbed our noisemakers (decorated paper plates stapled together with dried beans in between) and waited for the clock to strike 8. We did the ten second countdown and then yelled, "Happy New Year!!" A few seconds later, my niece piped up, "Somehow I thought that would be more exciting." Yup, that's the feeling!

Clearly, this was not going to be the year to change that feeling for me. While I join everyone in wishing a hasty end to 2020, I also realize that the beginning of 2021 isn't going to be a cakewalk - at least not in our family. There are 20 days until the inauguration to get through. There is a month of radiation to get through. There is a memorial service to get to and through. Oh yeah,  and COVID is still alive and kicking, even though the approval of vaccines is making us feel like there is an end in sight. 

But judging by the advertising in my email and on my Facebook timeline, many people really buy into the promise of the fresh start that the new year offers. In the two weeks leading up to January 1st I was promised a flatter belly, firmer bottom, fuller eyebrows,  and the elimination of frown lines and saggy jowls. Marketers seem keenly aware of our insecurities and have found the dawning of the new year to be an especially effective time to poke that bear. 

Well, I'm not buying. Farley assures me that dogs consider saggy jowls, like the ones he and I both sport, quite attractive; and if my walking routine doesn't firm my bottom, so be it. It still seems to work quite well for sitting, which I think we can all agree is what it was designed for. 

So here's wishing you a happy, healthy 2021 with everything you wish for (for just $19.99 in this time-limited offer)!

The Big 6-0 is Coming!

My 60th birthday is approaching fast. I had hoped this might be the year that I got to celebrate a decade unencumbered by grief or traumatic life events. When I turned 30, we were struggling with infertility and our birthdays were just a cruel reminder that life wasn't going according to the plan.  My 40th birthday was tainted by the death of my father six months earlier and an ill-advised surgery my 84 year-old mom scheduled for the week of (maybe even the day of?) my birthday. My daughter died a year and a half before my 50th birthday, followed by my mom just 14 months later. I was desperately sad and at sea that birthday. I didn't even want to acknowledge I was having a birthday and celebrating was out of the question.

I guess that was why I was looking forward to celebrating my 60th birthday in a big way. I wanted to break my decade birthday curse.  Peter's birthday is two months before mine, so I was thinking we could have a joint party or take a special trip somewhere relaxing, or adventurous,  or exotic. But 2020 put a halt to our planning before we even really got started and by the the fall of 2020, we had to wave the white flag. There would be no big celebration or birthday trips. COVID-19 was going to temporarily rob us of those opportunities. Already feeling the certainty of my curse, I had no inkling of what else 2020 had to throw at me before January 11, 2021 rolled around. 

First, it slammed me with the second C - cancer. On November 2, I was diagnosed with invasive lobular breast cancer. It sounds pretty bad and I was quite scared until the breast surgeon talked me through my pathology report and options. The cancer was caught very early and my prognosis is excellent. Nonetheless, I will be spending my 60th birthday readying myself to begin radiation treatments, instead of for a celebration. Really 2020? You had me at COVID.

And then, another loss. My father-in-law passed away on December 17.  Because of COVID, he died alone in a nursing home without the comfort of the soothing voice and warm touch of a loved one. We know this is a common story, but that doesn't make it easier. Like so many families this year, we will have to travel through the fraught territory of regret to be able to find our way to grief.  My father-in-law had a really big milestone birthday approaching, too. He was to turn 90 at the end of January. Before he was hospitalized with COVID-19 in mid-November, we felt certain we would have the opportunity to celebrate that important birthday with him. Now we will be remembering him and bidding him farewell on that day with a virtual memorial service.  

This past decade, accentuated by the horrors of this past year, has helped me accept that, especially as we get older, loss, illness and struggle are as much a part of the milestones we have reached as are graduations, marriages, births, adventures, and accomplishments. I don't believe everything happens for a reason. In fact, I loathe that expression. Emma's death was senseless. The way my father-in-law died was tragic. I will never believe my cancer is serving some grand purpose. I do believe, however, that we grow in important ways from what we learn about ourselves and others as we go through hard times. Over the last ten years, I have been comforted by the resilient spirits of Peter and Sarah and surprised by my own resilience. The pain of the losses I have experienced are still with me every day, but I have learned to use that pain in ways that are productive - to fuel a sense of purpose,  to support others through loss, and to appreciate joyful moments. I have been blessed with new and growing friendships that are characterized by authenticity and deep connections; and I have re-connected with people with whom I had lost touch. I have come really far in the last ten years and I am able to look ahead to the future with optimism, despite the bad things that have happened.  As I hit the big 6-0 that's what I want to focus on; not the growing older, but the growing.  

Before I sign off, I want to share two more thoughts. First, don't let COVID keep you from getting important health screenings that are due. Sure, put off less important routine care, and certainly put off elective care; but if you are due for a mammogram, breast ultrasound, colonoscopy or other important screenings, go get them. My journey with cancer is going to be so much easier because we caught it early. 

Second, despite everything 2020 has hurled at me and my family this year, and I've only shared a smattering of it here, I know we're still amongst the lucky ones. Low income communities and communities of color, like those served by Horizons at New Canaan Country School, the organization that I lead, have been disproportionately affected by illness, hospitalization, death, and financial hardship due to COVID-19. Early in the pandemic I had to worry about how I would get my food, but I never worried about whether I would have food. When I'm tempted to complain about being stuck at home, I remind myself how lucky I am not to be in danger of losing my home. Imagine being a child or a caregiver and trying to focus on school and learning when these things are weighing heavy on your mind. Long after the vaccine has beaten COVID-19 into submission, our families will be struggling to re-build their lives after this devastation. We are determined to be by their side every step of the way. 

So, if you feel like helping me celebrate my birthday, here are two things you can do that would make me genuinely happy: make an appointment for any health screenings that are due, and make a contribution to Horizons at New Canaan Country School.

As for me, I will be looking forward to celebrating 61 in 2022, when I hope I to be wrapped in comforting memories of lost loved ones and have COVID and cancer largely in the rear view mirror. 

2020 Scholarship Recipients

Thanks to the COVID-19 crisis, the high school Awards Night celebrations for graduating seniors in Fairfield were not held and we did not have the opportunity to meet and present the Emma Jane von Euler Music Scholarship to this year's recipients. I felt conflicted about that. This week is an emotionally exhausting week even without the scholarship presentation. I was a tad relieved not to have to live through the experience of waiting our turn to speak, watching the reaction of the audience as we talk about a subject many think is taboo, and then heading directly over to Fairfield's second high school to do it all over again. Nonetheless, I can't help feeling like I have forgotten to do something - that my grieving process will be even more unresolved this year.

The scholarship committee of the High School Scholarship Foundation did give us the opportunity to write a letter to our two recipients, which I am sharing with you here with congratulations to our two winners: Harry Graney-Green of Fairfield Warde High School and Maxwell Ephron of Fairfield Ludlowe High School

Dear Harry and Max,

Congratulations on receiving the Emma Jane von Euler Music Scholarship. You have worked really hard and accomplished so much.  We are very happy to be able to support you as you head off to college.

The Emma Jane von Euler Music Scholarship was established in memory of our beautiful daughter who took her life in June of her junior year in high school. Emma was kind and gentle, a strong student and a gifted musician. No one who knew Emma realized how intensely she was struggling. She hid it well.

That’s why when we present the scholarship each year we talk to the graduates about mental health and suicide. We encourage them to take their mental health as seriously as they take their physical health and to understand that there is no shame in seeking help for mental and emotional challenges.

We think this message is especially important this year. You have all had a very different ending to your senior year than you had hoped for. Isolation has been tough on all of us and we have all experienced periods of grief, sadness, loneliness and anxiety as we survived these last 3 months of quarantine. It’s important that we are all able to reach out for help and support when we need it. As you head off to college, make sure you know where to get help before you or a friend needs it. Put the crisis hotline and text line numbers into your phone, and find out where the health center and the counseling center are. Find friends who listen and care and be that kind of friend. Know that you have strength to overcome obstacles. You did it this spring!

You have much to be proud of. You have been resilient and accomplished your goals in the face of a historic crisis. We wish you continued resilience and success as you head off to college. Congratulations and be well!

Sincerely,

The von Euler Family

To AKR

On Sunday I relaxed at the beach and finished up Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal. The book is a memoir done in the format of an encyclopedia in which the author alphabetically captures her observations and reflections of her every day life. Her entries range from profound to comical, and she zooms in and zooms out on her life in a way that allows you to get to know both her idiosyncrasies and the time and context that shaped them.  I grew to like her more and more with each page and by the end I felt like we had been lifelong friends with all sorts of stories and shared experiences that we could chuckle about over a cup of coffee (Amy loves coffee!).

AKR, as I like to call her, has a habit of writing to authors when she finishes a book they have written, so I thought she would appreciate a note from me with my reflections on her book. While I was still at the beach, I looked up the book's website that was shared on the cover, but the website couldn't be found. Next I tried AKR's website that was also shared in the book. Again, I got the message "website cannot be found." I concluded that this was the fault of poor cell service, typed some notes on my phone to remind me what I wanted to say to her, and decided to try again at home.

When I got home I tried both the book's and AKR's website addresses again with no luck. Were both the websites down? How weird. I googled her name and when I saw the first entry my heart stopped - "Amy Krouse Rosenthal Obituary." Obituary?! She's dead?! My friend is dead?! I felt a lump grow in my throat and tears begin to well in my eyes. How could this be?!

In her obituary I read about a column AKR had written that was published in the NYT, titled "You May Want to Marry My Husband." She had written the article as a love letter and Valentine's gift to her husband when it was clear that she was going to lose her battle to ovarian cancer at age 51. I remember hearing this touching story on NPR back in 2017 when the article was first published, but I had not connected that author to the author whose book had totally absorbed, entertained and moved me. She had inspired me to strike up a conversation, but it was too late. She was gone.

I have not been able to shake the desire to have that correspondence, so I'm just going to have it here. AKR, here's what I wanted to tell you:

1. I found it very affirming to read that you share my fear and distrust of escalators. My family is particularly fond of the movie Elf because the escalator scene is just a small exaggeration of the routine I go through when I mount and dismount an escalator. I completely distrust the toothed monster at the entrance and exit of every escalator and make sure that I step way over its mouth as I get on and off so that it doesn't reach up and snatch my foot in its teeth. I love amusement park rides of all shapes and sizes but, damn, escalators are scary!

2. I sympathize with your inability to remember which side your gas tank is on. I want to let you in on a little secret before you are subjected to the humiliation I experienced when my teenage nephew who didn't even drive yet told me the sure fire way to know. You see, there's a little picture of a gas pump on every dashboard with an arrow pointing to the side your gas tank is on. I'm not kidding, there really is! Go look for yourself! Before you get too excited, this information will not be as life-changing as it seems. If you're anything like me you will forget to consult the picture until you have pulled up to a pump on the wrong side.

3. Thank you for allowing yourself to vividly imagine how it would feel to lose your child. For all of us whose children slipped through a hole in the universe; who were there one minute and gone the next; thank you for allowing yourself to feel and express the terror, grief and anticipation of profound loss when Miles slipped through that hole in the floor of the shipwreck you were exploring. When my daughter died, so many people said, "I can't imagine what it would be like to lose my child." What many of them meant was, "I don't want to imagine what it would be like to lose my child." It takes courage to face the potential of a loss so profound. I realize that was not the last time you needed that kind of courage. I'm glad that you found Miles, scraped up but safe, one level down. I'm glad that you escaped a horrifying loss that time and got more time with Miles. And I'm so sorry that your time with Jason, Justin, Miles and Paris was cut short by your disappearance through a hole in the universe. Thanks for letting me get to know you.

Your friend,
Nancy