My Dearest Emma by Lindsey Elizabeth Sullivan

This letter was written to Emma by her good friend from high school, Lindsey, and was read at the dedication ceremony for the butterfly garden by another friend, Rachel. It touched my heart and I asked if I could share it.

My dearest Emma. I am so sorry that I cannot be here tonight, but I do know that you are with me always (especially in New York City where fedoras are the bomb. You’re a trendsetter among the clouds. Anna Wintour needs to watch out. Seriously.) You are with all of us gathered here this evening and have been for the past five years. I can’t believe that it has been five years since the butterfly became TRULY significant to all of us that June. They were always pretty I suppose, but once they became a means of remembering you – vibrant, constantly fluttering on to the next great adventure, and of course, fabulous – seeing butterflies became crucial to brightening our darkest days. Cherishing the small details – like a white pair of wings fluttering at the end of the driveway – was something we all had to learn how to do at that time and in each and every day following. You have been instrumental to teaching us that and a number of other lessons for the past five years. We’ve learned that normal is, indeed, simply a setting on a washer/dryer. We’ve learned that it’s okay to ask for help on the sad days and to celebrate the good ones. We’ve learned that we should sing anyway. We’ve learned to tell the people we love that we love them and to MEAN it too, even and especially if we see them everyday or if we are scared to say those words out loud. We have learned to advocate for ourselves and for our friends. We have learned to be kinder to those we meet. We have learned that every exchange, every conversation, every gesture, every word, every day, every moment counts. I’m sure that we have all changed significantly over the past five years; the caterpillars ain’t got nothin’ on us. And I know, at least for me, your presence has given me the strength, inspiration, courage, and good vibes to face my metamorphosis head on. Change is inevitable, and it is scary and often even sad. However, change does not always have to mean saying good-bye to something or someone. Rather, change can encourage us to beat our wings onward. Change can encourage us to notice the seemingly small stuff. But most importantly, change helps us to better appreciate the things that stay the same. The family and friends we can’t live without. Our favorite foods and places. Our love for you. A lot has certainly changed in the past five years, but not a day, nor butterfly, goes by when we do not think of you.

Five Long Years by Betty Anderson Dworschak

This poem was sent to us yesterday by our dear college friend, Betty. Thank you, Betty.

Five Long Years

It’s been five long years since that fateful day

When your darkest fears met the black void of grief and loss

Five years of stark reality that stretch out and contract

Suddenly.  impulsively.  painfully.

You feel the sharp sting of the endless rubber band

Around your heart and stare unseeing, uncomprehending

At the rosary you now carry with you always.

And yet

You grapple to come to terms

You clutch and convey your memories

You snatch moments of joy

You seize chances to connect, to bond, to love

You risk your heart to change the unwritten future of strangers

You speak for those who have become your furtive family

Struggling in a silent sadness you know all too well.

It’s been five long years since that fateful day

When the gauntlet was ripped from your flesh

And thrown down, unbidden and unwanted

Your existence made raw, a gaping abyss before you

With no way back to the safe past.

Forward, with footsteps unsure but resolute,

You defy the emptiness and deify the love.

There is no higher purpose.

We

We who did not hear the shriek rise from our own throats

We who did not discover that the awful terror was coming from within us

We who did not stagger from that shock

Can never know, or presume to touch your loss,

A wound healing but never healed.

But

We can bear witness and stand by you

We can let in and soak up the memories you share

Unafraid of your immeasurable grief, never measuring,

Poised to tender what small solace surfaces and survives.

It’s been five long years since that fateful day.

Far away and in all ways, so far, and so far removed

Distant, but with arms wide open, I have but one small gift to give,

An ephemeral embodiment of the spirit that lives on in you.

The horrible moment has not destroyed you.

Emma Jane von Euler Memorial Scholarship presentation - 2014

Last night, on the 5th anniversary of Emma's death, we made the 4th annual presentation of the scholarship we established in her name. The anniversary is always a tough day, and we're never quite sure how to negotiate it. The scholarship presentation gave us some direction and purpose for the day. We were privileged to honor our daughter and to recognize the two remarkable young men who were selected for the scholarship. Here are our remarks:

Peter:

Hello, my name is Peter von Euler, and this is my wife, Nancy.  

The Emma Jane von Euler Music Scholarship is awarded each year to a student who demonstrates not only a talent and love for music, but also a kind and generous spirit and a desire to help and inspire others.  We make this presentation as a memorial to our daughter, who had a passion for music in many forms and who had a soft spot for anyone who appeared to need a friend.  In that same spirit, we also use this occasion to put forth a plea to all of you, to look out for your classmates and to take care of yourself.

It was on this day, June 17, five years ago, that our daughter Emma ended her life.  She was five days short of her 17th birthday.

My wife, our younger daughter, Sarah, and I  became survivors of suicide that day.  We are determined not only to survive, but also to keep Emma’s memory alive.  We also hope to keep more young people alive. We, (particularly my wife),  have set out to learn what we can and to share.  So, here’s a public service announcement:   Suicide is now the second leading cause of death for people ages 10-34. Suicide claims nearly as many lives each year as breast cancer; and as of 2010, more people in the United States died by suicide than died in car accidents.

Nancy:

Most of you who took driver’s ed. have a healthy appreciation for the risks of driving.  If you are a woman, I’d be willing to bet that you are well aware of the risk factors for breast cancer, but I suspect that you know less about the risk factors for suicide.  Most people think of suicide as an extreme reaction to a failed relationship, a lost job, or a family crisis.  The truth is, in 90% of deaths by suicide, the underlying cause is a diagnosable, although sometimes undiagnosed, mental illness.  

The good news is mental illness is treatable. But to be treated, you need to seek help. You have to take your mental health as seriously as you take your physical health.   So, here is what I want all of you to do. When you step onto the campus of your new school next fall, find out where the health center and the counseling center are. Chances are they were not a stop on your campus tour. If you are an overachiever, go in; find out what the hours are and what services they offer; introduce yourself to the staff; get comfortable and familiar. That way, should you ever not feel well, physically OR mentally, you'll know where to go, and who to ask for.  And please, never ever be ashamed or afraid to ask for all help. We ALL need help sometime.

This year we are awarded the scholarship to two young men who are gifted scholars, athletes AND musicians and who have also contributed in a meaningful way to his school and the community at large.

Congratulations to Jack Ullman - Fairfield Warde High School and Erik Stahle - Fairfield Ludlowe High School.

Sarah Graduates

I think that graduations are always a little bittersweet - the closing of one door and the opening of another. That is certainly true for our celebration of Sarah's recent graduation from Lauralton Hall.

We had anticipated spring 2014 ever since Emma entered high school and we realized that 2014 was the year we would celebrate two graduates in the class of 2014 - Emma from college, and Sarah from high school. We imagined the big bash we would throw to celebrate this great time for our family. So there was an extra layer of bittersweet as we celebrated Sarah's graduation from Lauralton on Sunday. The absence of our Emma who never made that high school milestone, never mind the college milestone we had anticipated celebrating this spring; but also the spectacular presence and accomplishment of Sarah whose graduation from Lauralton marks so much more than the earning of a simple diploma.

Thank you to all of you who have walked a stretch of the rocky road with us over these past years. You share in this celebration which is still sweet, despite the absence of one so very missed. Below are the tributes/toasts Peter and I gave to Sarah at her party, and a video of memories. I'm sure we embarrassed her, but she took it very well.

One final note. I was also missing my parents on graduation day and was remembering how much my father liked the name we chose for Sarah. "I can hear it on graduation day," he said. "Sarah Lillian von Euler. Classy!"


Nancy's Tribute:

I suppose at this stage of a child’s life, most parents would look back and reflect proudly on the important lessons they had taught their child; but as I reflected, I couldn’t help but note the important things that Sarah had taught me. I’d like to share some of the most valuable lessons with all of you.

One of the things Sarah did not teach me was how to put together a toast or a roast, or whatever this is, without shamelessly borrowing from overused formats, so I’m going to offer up my list of valued lessons a la Letterman in a top 10 list.

Number 10! – Popular Music. I’m showing my age by calling it popular music, but so be it. Whenever Sarah gets into my car she turns off NPR, plugs in her phone and treats me to the music in her iTunes library, while patiently answering my questions about who I’m listening to and what else they’ve done. Without Sarah, I might have missed an entire decade of music while in the NPR zone. Instead, I am a well-rounded adult who recognizes the voices of both Ofeibia Quist-Arcton and Ariana Grande.

Number 9! – Ordering Coffee. Having not grown up in the coffee-obsessed culture we live in now, I have trouble negotiating the complex array of sizes, flavorings and other options on the typical coffee house menu. Sarah, on the other hand, is a pro. In a Starbucks, Sarah can impress by ordering a grande mocha polka latte-chino while I, on the other hand, have people snickering because I have asked for a tall blonde. Apparently, you should include the word roast, a tall blonde ROAST. That was an important lesson.

Number 8! – The Art of Commuting – I commuted to New York via Metro North for grad school and certainly mastered the science of commuting, but Sarah has taught me the art commuting. Sarah could get up at 6:50 and make a 7:15 train! She would roll out of bed fully-dressed in her uniform. As we know, Lauralton is an all-girls school, so she didn’t need to brush her hair. I think she brushed her teeth. Even with this slim window, we would carve out time to go through the Dunkin Donuts drive-thru and practice our coffee ordering. We would get to the train station with just minutes to spare, but Sarah would spend all of those minutes in the car, texting and finishing up the morning’s lesson in popular music. Not until the train was pulling into the station, would Sarah begin casually tucking away her phone, putting the straw in her iced coffee, pulling on her jacket or sweatshirt, gathering up her backpack, and walking towards the train. The last of the boarding passengers were typically already on the train by the time she reached the top of the ramp to the platform - and this is when it got really exciting – she would walk across the now empty platform and step inside the train just in time to have the doors close immediately behind her! Her timing was impeccable – or the conductors were patient – I’m not really sure which, but it certainly made for a heart-pumping start of the day for me!

Number 7! – What Phones are For! For years I labored under the misconception that phones were for talking, but Sarah has taught me that phones are for texting and surfing the internet and listening to music, etc., etc. Actual calls should apparently only be made when texting and emails have failed. Peter has not completely learned this lesson. He reached Sarah in the car one day (I was driving) and after Sarah got off the phone with him she said, “Oh my God! He calls and he wants to stay on the phone and talk to you!”

Number 6! – A Thing or Not a Thing – This is not a riff on Shakespeare, but rather a new system of classification that does not share the limitations of prior classification systems like the periodic table or Linnaeus’ biological taxonomy. The Thing and Not a Thing system incorporates such esoteric concepts as fashion, taste, and even ethics, and is, therefore, much harder to master. But Sarah is a serious student of classification and is as close to a Thing – Not a Thing scholar, as I believe one can be. Peter and I have tried hard to catch up. We have spent many a dinner conversation discussing whether some action or object should be classified as a Thing or Not a Thing, but we almost always have to defer to Sarah’s better judgment. It’s confusing. Sometimes someone will have done something, which you would think would make it a Thing, but because it was idiotic that they did it, it is Not a Thing. Here’s one that I have mastered – Dunkin Donuts cookie dough flavored iced coffee – On the menu - Not a Thing!

Number 5! – Spray Tans – Not a Thing! – This is a lesson that Sarah taught me just recently. It was the morning of Prom Day and we were sitting in the car at the train station with a full 3 ½ minutes to spare. Sarah was duly ensconced in social media, keeping tabs on the news regarding manicures, make-up, up-dos and who was most likely to be annoyingly late for pictures, when suddenly her head popped up and she started frantically scanning the station parking lot. “Is everything okay?” I said. She turned to me with great seriousness and said, “Someone has a bad spray tan!” I was puzzled. “How do you know that? Did someone text you?” “No! I overheard someone ask her friend if she had showered yet. That can only mean one thing. She has a bad spray tan!” Now see, if I had overheard that conversation, I would have assumed that the friend smelled bad.  But I was unaware of the algorithm – Prom minus shower equals bad spray tan; and this is what worries me. Sarah is heading off to college in just a couple of months, and I clearly still have so much to learn!

Number 4! – Social Media – Let me just put it out there. No adult should venture into the world of social media without teenage supervision. I know that as the parent, I should have set limits and guidelines for Sarah’s use of all things Internet, but the fact of the matter is, she understands it way better than I do. Sarah has gently tried to teach us texting etiquette, but people who learned to type on an IBM Selectrix have trouble adjusting to the new rules. Punctuation and sentences starting with capital letters? Not a Thing! Messages sent in all caps? Not a Thing unless it is a declaration of war. I did not know that, exclamation point!

Just when I was mastering Facebook, Sarah had pretty much abandoned it for Twitter and Instagram. I’m still not sure I get Twitter, but in an effort to keep up with my child, I set up an account and launched my first tweet. I think it was something like “Look at me, I’m tweeting #oldfartstweet.” It might have been really embarrassing to my family, but I didn’t have any followers. Several months later, Sarah and her friends tried to re-launch my Twitter identity by sending out a carefully crafted tweet, sure to garner the attention of adoring teenage fans everywhere. Judging by their hysterics, I gather I was being very funny. I can’t say for sure because I didn’t understand what “I” was saying. Again –nothing. Sarah, always the problem-solver, suggested that what I needed to do to get some followers was to follow more people myself. So, I dutifully began following some of the great thinkers of our day: Andy Cohen, Bethenny Frankel and Nene Leakes. If you don’t watch Bravo TV – well, I feel sorry for you. This sage advice from Sarah led to one of the greatest social media moments of my life.

I was taking the long train ride back from DC by myself after a conference this past February. I was flipping through my twitter timeline, something I had only recently learned to do, when I came across a kvetching tweet, by Andy Cohen. He was complaining about a plane trip west that wasn’t going well. “ Spending 9 hours on a plane only to land in L.A.,” he kveeted. I wittily replied to his tweet, “Don’t complain. I’m spending 5 hours on a train and I’m landing in Bridgeport.” And then something amazing happened – Andy Cohen replied “LOL @nancyvone!”

When I had composed myself I texted Sarah to tell her about the tweet from Andy. She texted right back, “That’s great, Mom. I’ll check out your Twitter feed.”  I found out later that she then turned to Peter and said, “That’s so cute. Mom thinks Andy Cohen tweeted at her.”

Now it’s true, there had been a incident a month earlier when I thought that Tom Colicchio had replied to my tweet and it turned out to only be his restaurant, but when she checked this time she discovered that it was, in fact, THE Andy Cohen! She texted me again. “I saw it Mom. Wow! That’s so cool! I’m going to re-tweet it. BTW, you’re not supposed to use punctuation in your hashtags.”

Not a Thing!

Number 3! – Perseverance – On a more serious note, over the years Sarah has taught me a lot about perseverance and this past year was no exception. Sarah was blessed this year with a new field hockey coach who was so singularly focused on winning the state championship that she didn’t let petty distractions, like humanity, get in her way. She was a tough gal to please and an even tougher gal to talk to. When frustration was running particularly high, I suggested to Sarah that there would be no shame in quitting a team that had ceased to be fun or rewarding. But she would have none of that. “I’m not a quitter, Mom,” she said, and indeed, she is not. Sarah used her humor to rescue the season for herself and for many discouraged teammates. While Coach Kati was holding up signs with plays for the starters on the field, Sarah was behind her holding up signs with plays for the stalwart benchwarmers. My favorite was the picture of the nun with her hands folded in prayer, signifying that they should all start saying their Hail Mary’s. I’m pretty sure that’s what got them to the championship. At the end of the season banquet, Sarah gave a hysterical speech that brought down the house and Coach Kati now follows Sarah on Twitter. Just sayin’

Number 2! – Courage. When I read the description of Sarah’s proposed camp trip to Bolivia I thought it sounded exhilarating - like roller coaster exhilarating, which is to say, scary. But if Sarah was going to be brave enough to go, we needed to be brave enough to let her. I was most scared about the time she would spend in the Andes, battling frigid overnight temperatures and extreme altitude. That part of the trip was, in fact, very hard. There were several mornings when she woke up vomiting and then had to hike the whole day. I breathed a sigh of relief when she emailed us after that stage of the trip and was heading off for what I imagined was the more serene rainforest portion of the trip. Thankfully, I didn’t know anything about the piranha and crocodile-infested rivers, roads blockaded by protesters, and the need to abandon their vehicles and hitchhike to their destination until Sarah had safely arrived back on American soil, feeling great about the challenges she had stared down.

Everybody recognizes and appreciates that kind of courage – courage in the face of obvious danger or hardship; but Sarah has also shown the other kind of courage that people often overlook – the day-to-day courage it takes to stay in the game and play it the best you can even when life has dealt you some really bad cards. No one gets this more than Peter and I do, and we have tremendous respect and admiration for the way she has bravely and honestly played the cards she has been dealt.

Number 1! Wisdom – You can study a lot and get smart, but wisdom is a gift, and Sarah has it. Sarah has the ability to boil down the most complex ideas or situations into simple, clear statements of truth. So many times she has uttered something that has stopped me in my tracks and made me think, “Now those are words to live by” or “True dat!” (Sarah taught me that phrase). Today, Sarah was handed her high school diploma, but the God’s honest truth is she already has a Ph.D. in life.

You may or may not have noticed that your invitation had a picture of an acorn on it. In part, that was an inside joke - a reference to the fact, that on the bus ride to the state field hockey championships, Sarah calmed the nerves and stirred the souls of her teammates with a powerful rendition of the Saugatuck Elementary School song, Mighty Oaks from Tiny Acorns Grow. But we also thought it was very fitting for the occasion. Sarah, you entered the world as a preemie – the tiniest of acorns, and you have indeed grown into a mighty, mighty oak. We love you so much and are so very proud of you. Congratulations!!!

Peter's Toast:

Okay, Sarah, I will keep this brief.  I just have a short song that I want to sing to you.  If you could just come up here so I can sing it to you…no?  Actually, I wanted us to do a dance that you taught me when you were about two…. but that might embarrass you, and I might hurt myself…and that might embarrass you. 

But here’s the problem:  Mom has already taken a lot of the best material.  She was funny parent AND sentimental parent all in one.  That leaves me very little room as a parent.  So, I’m going to do what anyone would do when he is at a loss for words.  I’m going to steal someone else’s.

A few weeks back, your English teacher had the nerve to give you an assignment that was due on the last day of school:  recite a poem.  Perhaps she was unaware that that was not a thing.  However, she did allow you to choose your own poem.  The poem you chose turned out to be one I knew and loved.  I loved it more, though, when I realized that it was really a poem about you, my amazing daughter.  Now the poet is not exactly one who you would call famous, but she has a lot to say about the kind of fame to which we should all aspire.

Famous

Naomi Nye

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,

Which knew it would inherit the earth

Before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds

Watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

The idea you carry close to your bosom

Is famous to your bosom.

The boot is famous to the earth,

More famous than the dress shoe,

Which is famous only to floors.

The bent photograph is famous to the one who carries it

And not at all famous to the one who is pictured.

I want to be famous to shuffling men

Who smile while crossing streets,

Sticky children in grocery lines,

Famous as the one who smiled back.

I want to be famous in the way a pulley is famous,

Or a buttonhole, not because it did anything spectacular,

But because it never forgot what it could do.

Personally, Sarah, I think it’s spectacular how you have lived your life, especially these past five years.  And since I agree that someone who really lives that way, never forgetting what she can do, deserves some fame, here is nine and a half minutes of well-deserved fame.  In this, I think everyone will see one of the other great lessons that Sarah has learned:

Whenever, in life, you find it hard to muster that smile, try making a really goofy face.  It’s bound to make other people smile.

Sarah video tribute