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For those of you who could not attend the funeral, I was given the opportunity to give a personal eulogy for my dear Uncle Chad, who I miss very much. I've copied and pasted it below so that you can read what was said. He meant so very much to me, and I can only hope that he was able to hear my words spoken of him. I think he would have really loved it.
"You know, I keep thinking that any minute now my Uncle Chad's going to come out of nowhere and say, “Just joking, everyone. I'm here so let's go eat some crawfish!” He was always such a kidder, and he was such a gift to all of us whether it was to family or friends or people that he just met. I'll tell you about my uncle. My uncle was the coolest. And funny! When I was a kid, I'd go hang out at his house and we'd order pizza with all of these silly toppings on them. “Let's just try it!” he'd say. Some of the concotions we came up with were ick, but pepperoni and pineapple. That was his favorite. It's kind of what I think about now. I haven't eaten pepperoni and pineapple pizza in years, but what I wouldn't give to have one more chance to eat silly pizza with him. He taught me a lot. Taught me a lot about how to ride a horse. Even gave me tips on how to saddle one. I loved doing horse shows with him, and that was when our Alliance all began because we loved doing the same thing. Watching him ride was something truly magnificent. He sat tall and proud in his saddle with such an ease, as if he was doing what he was meant to do. Like a swan on water, looking completely at calm and graceful when you know that all the work was going on beneath the surface. He made it look easy when riding horses is anything but. He loved it almost as much as he loved all of us. At family functions, when he felt that things were getting intense, we'd lean over towards each other with our arms folded and like the ultimate collaborator he'd say, “You know, we CC's gotta stick together.” And he was right. I've always viewed the two of us as the odd birds in the family and the fact that we had the same initials solidified that yes. We had to stick together. Always that warm smile for everyone that lit him up like a Christmas tree. He always viewed life through humorous eyes, always made a goofy face in the pictures I'd take of him, and always, always had an answer for everything. When I'd throw the teasing banter right back at him, he'd say, “Look here, you little cooyaw ...” and then he'd throw his arm around me. Funny how a nickname that he's called me for as long as I can remember is the one thing I wish I could hear again. I feel like, if I listen hard enough and long enough, I can almost hear him say it. I remember the last time we spoke. Our last conversation was about zombies. We laughed at Grandma's reaction because she despises the one particular zombie show that we were talking about. I will never forget that conversation. I'm so glad we had it, as well as all of the other talks we've had though they weren't enough because I wish you were here now. To my Uncle Chad, I love you. Your little cooyaw misses you so, so much. It's been a pleasure knowing you these past 29 years. Thank you for all of the wonderful memories. I will carry them with me forever. Thank you.
Monday, December 10, 2012 |
