The first time I read anything I had written, out loud, was at my son's funeral.
My Eulogy to Kerry
February 16, 1979 - Your Dad and I watched you take your first breath. One year later we enrolled you in waterbaby's, tossed you into a pool of blue water, and watched you swim.
At four you recited your alphabet and earned your preschool certificate. That summer, with your father's gentle push, you learned to ride your bike. From then on there was no stopping you. Starting with T-Ball, Tennis and Karate, you even wiggled your way into a first place ribbon at your first and only breakdance contest.
At Julian Curtis school you set a record by completing 22 pull-ups. The record stood for over 10 years. From then on it was a steady stream of sports - swimming, basketball, football, wresting. And then of course there was baseball, baseball, baseball.
On the sidelines was your biggest fan - your sister Lindsay. She cheered you on every step of the way. You in return supported her with gentle love and kindness. Through her you learned to nurture, protect, cherish and adore.
At Central Middle School you began studying the viola and we were thrilled to see your musical side. Years later you confessed that your strings never touched the bow. Your only motivation was to accompany the orchestra on their year end field trip to Great Adventure Amusement Park.
Throughout the years we watched you learn and grow and mostly, we watched you laugh. And when you laughed it was deep and hardy, from the belly of your soul.
When you found Mary, "your faith," life became sweet. Jackson's arrival brought an endless flood of joy to you and all those lucky enough to be near. Again, we watched you nurture, protect, cherish and adore.
What we didn't hear or see was your pain. Your pain was never spoken, only written and never shared. You were intuitive and intelligent enough to hide your pain and deliver only what everyone wanted to hear. You gave people what they needed. You gave everything, every ounce of your existence. You gave too much.
For those who say they don't understand, know that depression is a disease. The conscious experience becomes an endless stream of distressing thoughts and emotions. Sadly, creative people are more vulnerable to depression.
From the Velveteen Rabbit, to James Joyce's cryptic language in Finnegan's Wake, you loved to read. You were a deep thinker, a writer, a poet. Through writing you were able to escape.
May 27, 2002, your daily scheduled, e-mail Horoscope read:
Aquarius - be brave, be adventurous, and boldly go where no man has gone before. Your ideas for heightening the joy quotient in your life should be taken seriously. You gave at the office. You've been a terrific contributor to other's existence, but now you should shift your focus to that which floats your cork.
Kerry, know that all we see in you is good.
Kerry running a 3.2 mile race. My father on the side lines, cheering him on.
Kerry's head shot - age 13.
Kerry holding his sisters hand - headed to the Junior Prom
Mother's Day - painting ceramic bowls.
Kerry holding his newborn son.
ALL ABOUT KERRY
The Journey Continues
by Kerry Magann