Eulogy, by Request

In our grief,
regret is not welcome.
In our grief,
our sadness moves us to Grace,
In our grief,
there is no room for anger.
In our grief,
love prevails.

Love prevails.

Love as the husband to Lynn. Love as the daddy to John, Farrah and Rocco. Love as the son of Mom & Dad. Love as the brother of Corinne, Chuck, John, Dana, Cliff, Kathy, Jim, Lisa and me. Love to Adam, Andrea, Matt, Nicole, Jake, James, Sam, Paige and Tony – their Uncle Bozo. Love to his aunts and uncles, cousins, his friends, his work, to the town of North Collins – fun-loving, high-spirited, streaking clown of love.

Our best friend.

His love prevails.

I can hear my Mom’s voice, haunting me. “Jeff’s gone, Carrie, he’s gone…” she said in her own grief-stricken voice and we cried together. But I say now, “No Ma, he’s not gone. He’s right here. He’s right here in our hearts. And he’ll be at the next Bruce concert, he’ll be at the next Yankees game, he’ll be at the dinner table for pasta on Sundays, he’ll be cooking at Christmas, he’ll be in the dandelion salad and the stuffed hot peppers, he’ll be sticking his finger in your mouth whenever you yawn, he’ll be dancing to the YMCA every single time we hear it, he’ll be wrapping his arms around the kids, he’ll be in every ice sculpture, shooting hoops, swinging a bat; he’ll be dipping a chew, he’ll be drinking a beer, or two, or three.

He is loving his friends, loving his aunts and uncles and cousins; loving his nieces and nephews; loving his brothers and sisters, loving his Mom and Dad, loving his babies. He is loving his wife.

He’ll be here always, in every smile, every giggle, every act of kindness and generosity. He’ll be here because love prevails. And Jeff is love.