Hello everyone,

It is hard to believe that Scott has been gone six weeks and it has been almost a month since his funeral.  We are still not at the point of accepting that this is all real.  Sometimes I have to stop for a moment and convince myself that it was not just a bad dream.  And then, of course, the majority of the time it is all too real.  It will take a long time to accept this new reality.  I'm not sure I ever will.  But in the midst of all of this sadness there was a moment of joy and healing that I want to share.

Scott's "Celebration of Life" was truly that, a celebration.  Over the last several years the phrase "Celebration of Life" has replaced "funeral" in our social lexicon.  We have decided that we want to focus on the gift of someone's time on earth, rather than our loss.  Unfortunately, we often fail in that effort.  The sorrow is too powerful and the joy and thankfulness fade into the background.  I think that for the first time in our experience the joy and thankfulness won.

The day was full of shared stories and experiences, laughter and tears.  The crowd represented every phase of Scott's life, from kindergarten in Seattle to work in Chester.  There were friends from high school, kids he coached and mentored, neighbors, and a very large contingent of cousins, aunts, uncles and in-laws.  There were hunting and fishing buddies and guys from the local golf club.  There were people whose only connection was a "hello" on the street or a "thanks" for a service.  The local FedEx driver said that Scott would roll down his window, wave and say "Hey, Fed Ex" whenever he saw her in town.   And a woman who works in one of the local gas stations got away with calling him "Scottie".   There are only about four people left that he allowed to call him that.  But regardless of the link, there was a consistency of opinion.  Each in their own way talked about how Scott enriched their lives.  About how they were better off for having known him.  Now, of course, your first thought is that, "Well, if they didn't like him, they wouldn't be there."  But the telltale sign was the atmosphere.  It was loud, at times almost boisterous.  It felt like a party, not a wake.  A survey of the crowd showed smiles, not tears.  From the urn shaped like a Mallard decoy to the tequila shots at the end of the event it was as though he was there in the crowd telling his own stories and laughing at his many  misadventures.  And the eulogies were perfect.  Kari, Faith and Scott's friend, Jay, spoke at the mass and each in their own way captured a special perspective on Scott's impact and importance.  I was particularly proud of Faith, at 19 years old, standing up and giving such an eloquent, heartfelt description of the amazing relationship she and her brothers had with her dad and her commitment to live up to the promises she made to him about how she would honor his wishes when he was gone.  And I spoke at the reception.  I was amazed that I made it through, but I needed to share how much he meant to me from before he was born and how much I will miss him now that he is gone.  At some point soon  I'll share my speech here on CaringBridge.

I believe that people left the celebration feeling that they had actually celebrated.  I know we did.  It was a perfect send-off for an amazing man, father, son and friend who will be missed every day, forever.

Scott, we love you more than the Universe is big. 

Always and Forever.

Mom