Below is a eulogy that I read at Kimberly Craig's funeral service.
Truly, Kim's friend forever, Nick Patler
Dear Kim,
I know you have moved on to bigger and better things. But I just want to say that I love you very, very much, and I will miss you, and if you can, come visit me with your presence from time to time, or as much as you like. Also, if you can, stop off in the summer of 1986 and spend a day there with all of us bunch of crazy guys—me, Chris, Tim, Keith, etc. That was the best summer ever, and gosh did we have so much fun. We were a bunch of rowdy teenagers then, and what fun we had as we enjoyed free reign in that mansion-of-a-house, the big one on the top of Madison Street, with the huge, round columns, spacious Victorian rooms, long hallways, and the old fashioned elevator. Remember how Chris’s parents let him watch the house that summer while they were gone, and how he invited all of us into what was often a round-the-clock party of jokes, horseplay, movies and mischief? We were on our own for the first time in our lives, and we loved it!
Kim, Kim, Kim, you were light as a feather, happy, enthusiastic, and just a burst of energy. Wherever you went, whenever you just walked by, it was like a soft breeze carried you, or followed you. Throughout the years, that never really left you. Indeed, the last time we were together, only a few weeks ago, I remember thinking that about you as you breezed by me with your personality, your laugh, your voice, your spirit. Oh, by the way, make sure before you leave that day in '86 that we all go the drive-in movie theater in Lexington. Remember that? Remember how we used to pile into Chris’s big red truck on those warm summer evenings, just as dusk began to settle; how we zoomed down the interstate to Lexington, backed up in front of that huge, outdoor movie screen, flung down the tailgate, and watched, maybe if we were lucky, ten or so minutes of the movie, spending most of the time horsing around and harassing each other, and disturbing everyone around us. You always made everyone laugh; you always made everyone feel good about themselves; and we always wanted to be near you. And that stayed with you for the rest of your life. Everyone, every life you touched you spread that special magic that was you, that was Kim, in all of our lives. So when you visit that summer day of ’86, make us go that night to the drive-in, no matter what. And be an instigator and make us really act up now, goofier than ever, laughing so hard that our faces hurt. And if you can, if you can, somehow let me know the significance of that day, of that moment, as we spend time together, even if it is just with a twinkle in your eye. I may not completely understand, but I will get it at some level, I am sure.
Kim, you allowed me to see the world through you; yes, you taught me to look closely and savor the little things in life, the things we often take for granted, such as the blinking dance of fireflies at night; the wiggle of tadpoles swimming through the water; the majesty of a pink flamingo sunset; the sound of the an ocean wave sweeping across the beach and then retreating back into the sea which you loved so much.
I want to give you this final gift, Kim: to get a selection of your amazing poems published one way or another. I know you would want this, and I also know that at some level you had always planned to publish some of your poems after you had moved on, but only then.
Well, my friend, I love you. You are my best friend, one of the few unconditional friendships I have ever had in my life. Just because you are in another place right now does not change that, and I know that you are still close by, we just can't see it clearly because we are limited in our spiritual perception here. And I know that you will always be watching over Katie, guiding her, smiling, radiating your warmth and light as she walks the path of life.
That's beautifully done. And I am sorry. Your heart must be aching often.
I would like to post a picture of Kim, but couldn't be sure I found one. Is this Kim: myYearbook? Or, if you have a better one, please send it to me at lowelldude@aol.com.
2 comments :
Dear Kim's Fellow Poets,
Below is a eulogy that I read at Kimberly Craig's funeral service.
Truly, Kim's friend forever,
Nick Patler
Dear Kim,
I know you have moved on to bigger and better things. But I just want to say that I love you very, very much, and I will miss you, and if you can, come visit me with your presence from time to time, or as much as you like. Also, if you can, stop off in the summer of 1986 and spend a day there with all of us bunch of crazy guys—me, Chris, Tim, Keith, etc. That was the best summer ever, and gosh did we have so much fun. We were a bunch of rowdy teenagers then, and what fun we had as we enjoyed free reign in that mansion-of-a-house, the big one on the top of Madison Street, with the huge, round columns, spacious Victorian rooms, long hallways, and the old fashioned elevator. Remember how Chris’s parents let him watch the house that summer while they were gone, and how he invited all of us into what was often a round-the-clock party of jokes, horseplay, movies and mischief? We were on our own for the first time in our lives, and we loved it!
Kim, Kim, Kim, you were light as a feather, happy, enthusiastic, and just a burst of energy. Wherever you went, whenever you just walked by, it was like a soft breeze carried you, or followed you. Throughout the years, that never really left you. Indeed, the last time we were together, only a few weeks ago, I remember thinking that about you as you breezed by me with your personality, your laugh, your voice, your spirit. Oh, by the way, make sure before you leave that day in '86 that we all go the drive-in movie theater in Lexington. Remember that? Remember how we used to pile into Chris’s big red truck on those warm summer evenings, just as dusk began to settle; how we zoomed down the interstate to Lexington, backed up in front of that huge, outdoor movie screen, flung down the tailgate, and watched, maybe if we were lucky, ten or so minutes of the movie, spending most of the time horsing around and harassing each other, and disturbing everyone around us. You always made everyone laugh; you always made everyone feel good about themselves; and we always wanted to be near you. And that stayed with you for the rest of your life. Everyone, every life you touched you spread that special magic that was you, that was Kim, in all of our lives. So when you visit that summer day of ’86, make us go that night to the drive-in, no matter what. And be an instigator and make us really act up now, goofier than ever, laughing so hard that our faces hurt. And if you can, if you can, somehow let me know the significance of that day, of that moment, as we spend time together, even if it is just with a twinkle in your eye. I may not completely understand, but I will get it at some level, I am sure.
Kim, you allowed me to see the world through you; yes, you taught me to look closely and savor the little things in life, the things we often take for granted, such as the blinking dance of fireflies at night; the wiggle of tadpoles swimming through the water; the majesty of a pink flamingo sunset; the sound of the an ocean wave sweeping across the beach and then retreating back into the sea which you loved so much.
I want to give you this final gift, Kim: to get a selection of your amazing poems published one way or another. I know you would want this, and I also know that at some level you had always planned to publish some of your poems after you had moved on, but only then.
Well, my friend, I love you. You are my best friend, one of the few unconditional friendships I have ever had in my life. Just because you are in another place right now does not change that, and I know that you are still close by, we just can't see it clearly because we are limited in our spiritual perception here. And I know that you will always be watching over Katie, guiding her, smiling, radiating your warmth and light as she walks the path of life.
I love you.
Hi Nick,
That's beautifully done. And I am sorry. Your heart must be aching often.
I would like to post a picture of Kim, but couldn't be sure I found one. Is this Kim: myYearbook? Or, if you have a better one, please send it to me at lowelldude@aol.com.
Yours,
Rus
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