Adrian, Our Superhero
Eulogy by Uncle Billy
I know that as I have gotten older, I have become wise enough to know that I don't know too many things.
But I do know a couple and one is that I am unequal to the task of letting you all know what an incredible little boy Adrian was, because there are no words.
And I do know something else: I know how lucky I was to spend every minute that I got to spend with him. And, I know that he had a lot to teach me, so I'd like to try to relay a couple of things that I learned from him.
You know, when Adrian was born, my young cousins and I--in the midst of going back and forth through the naming process--we sort of developed a story that he was a superhero. Little was I to know how true that was. Because for a little boy to face such adversity in the manner that he faced it and the choices that he made while facing such hardship... Adrian chose to embrace life every single day. He wanted to be happy and he knew what was important. He had good taste—it was the good things: Adrian loved books, music and dancing; and he loved the park and the zoo. And, most importantly, he loved love. Adrian couldn't get enough kisses: head kisses, foot kisses, hand kisses. And he was like a multiplier of love, because as much as he soaked up, he'd give it right back. And if anybody was lucky enough to get a hug from him, it was the most amazing thing. He had these big hands—they were so powerful—that would grab your shoulders [and he would go] "ah".
Adrian was also a hero [because] superheroes are often surrounded by other superheros—they have a posse, if you will, and Adrian certainly had no shortage of followers. Matt and Erin are my heroes. Because of what they overcame and endured to be with Adrian every second—running to urgent care in the middle of the night, dealing with ostomies, and viruses and fevers, everything they did to make sure Adrian had a chance to be as happy as he was every day.
All the doctors and nurses, therapists, everybody at Sloan and Blythedale, and everybody everywhere who fought alongside him; all our family members and friends, many people who were once strangers at those hospitals; family and friends who went above and beyond, who made profound efforts to do even the little things: to send us food, and give us comfort and look out for Benjamin.
Adrian is also a superhero because he stood for something more. He urges us all to fight on for something more. You know, when Adrian started cruising—I don't know if you've ever seen—he couldn't get enough. I would take him to the park and he would have his hands in front me and he would go— he just would not stop. I would be exhausted and would say, "Adrian, let's stop, let's look at the trees," and, he would just be like, no, more, go go go.
His father instilled a love of trains in him and he certainly had no shortage of love for trains. When he was cruising like that, he was like my little engine pulling me forward constantly... he never had interest in the path, he was always looking for some roots to climb over, the roughest terrain... up and down and up and down. He was tireless.
So he's still our little engine, pulling us forward. Urging us to fight, to fight for all the little children continuing to fight at Sloan-Kettering and all around the world, and to fight for anyone who is looking for a hero.
...
Adrian, I miss you soooooo much.
...
20 August 2008
Church of Saint Saviour
Brooklyn, New York