As a young boy, My mother would often remind me; “we preach our own eulogies everyday, by the way we choose to live.” A good life leaves very little to be said at the end. I’ve been to many funerals, though I can not recall the words that were spoken — I remember the lives that were lived.
Ricky’s life was one of the most inspiring eulogies I’ve ever observed.
Even now, I can hear his voice; “ hurry up, keep it short cousin, you’re gonna f@ck-up my life’s work with your words.”
So I’ll be brief.
I was fortunate to have had a cousin as my closest friend. He was socially irresistible – comfortable in himself and in helping others feel the same. A confidence I always admired. He was consistent. I’m sure we each carry our own versions of Ricky, but If we were to compare them, I believe they would all look surprisingly the same.
He was practical and required things to make sense. He was among the most reasonable people I’ve ever known, and I loved him dearly.
Cousin, how can I write you. you have left us – and I find you most difficult to describe.
what words can I use, is there a language or symbol that can hold the shape of this. Feelings are all there is now –and in silence, they have no use.
there was but a single existence between us – and still. for what was will forever be, and the joy of your memory is the vision forward.
the most magnificent sound ever whispered seems to linger still – like the last of fall’s golden leaves holding the light of the sun.
the wonder of you was not in the doing, nor the learning we shared – your being was enough. your being was bountiful.
knowing you has been the pleasure of my life.
by K. Osei