My Eulogy for Robin

Robin was a person who loved words. She spoke carefully and thoughtfully, knowing the right turn of phrase – the exact words that needed to be said. I think all of her friends and family will have to agree with me that Robin held nothing back. If something needed to be said; it was said, but lovingly, thoughtfully and with plenty of Grace. I have nothing on her in that respect. She could say it just as she thought it. She would be much better at this task than I could ever be.

This being said, its generally pretty hard to characterize a person with a single word (and Robin would have agreed.). But in Robin's case, I think it is a pretty easy task. There is no other word, and indeed, not even a whole phrase or sentence that so characterizes how she felt towards the world and, indeed, how the world felt towards her as the simple word“Joy”.

From what I know of her life before she met me, this has been always been so. Reading her journals which contain reflections on everything from scripture, God, her family, her friends -- everything that's worth any thought whatever –I am realizing something I've always really known about her. That she was an individual entirely enraptured in “Joy”

In high school, as I have and continue to be told by her countless friends, the love of God continually shone through her. I am told by a friend of hers, who had a terrible difficulty getting through high school on account his being gay that she was there for him, encouraging and giving him strength every day and its because of her graceful joy and love, that he feels he is here today. Her life is full of stories like that. She always made certain that everyone felt comfortable.

In college her joy continued, and gosh, look at those beautiful pictures that we have from those years. She broadened her world, outside of this beautiful small town which Robin always really considered home, and met friends from all around the country and the world. Some of those people are here today. She went to Paris, was completely enchanted by it, and constantly throughout the time I knew her, referred back to that wonderful experience. And until the night before she went into the hospital, she still corrected my miserable French..

Her work in foreign missions as a youth(well, she was a always youth) and in college are really the tip of the iceberg. We planned a mission trip to India following this coming year's work in South Korea . Our last full conservation was a 'joyful' expectation of that trip.

It was her natural disposition to always put her own needs behind those of others. She worked at Mooseheart longer than was probably emotionally healthy for her because she dearly loved the children and wanted make an important impact in their lives. When I visited that special place in her life just several months ago, I saw the love her “children” had for her and she for them. I always heard especially of Blake and Aaron, children of a drug addict, who had behavioral issues to say the least. They leaped for joy at her approaching footstep and marvelous laugh. For these poor kids, otherwise unloved and cast aside by the world, she was their protector. And she still is. She's with all the angels and saints throughout word, constantly praying for them as she did in this life on earth.

All these things she did before she met me. I can't really say much more about them. But all of her friends here can definitely agree with me that throughout her wonderful but brief life, she did everything with such Grace and love, always joyfully and hopefully. She was a truly sanctified person and sign and vehicle of the idea that God wants His creatures to be happy. The beautiful woman, whom Robin called her “Second Mom”, wrote of Robin saying that she “was like a good, clean, fresh, sweet air that everyone breathed in when she was near; like a lilac tree in full bloom, you just stand there and breathe her in.” And God, is that true.

As everyone probably knows, I met Robin nearly two years ago in South Korea. We met at church. Is there a better place to meet than that? I have to admit, I definitely was checking her out in the communion line at Mass that day. Immediately, we were captivated by each other. We spent that whole Sunday afternoon together. I didn't care that I was hours late for a party and she didn't care that she completely blew off her boss' plans for that afternoon. We really liked each other. We talked about T.S. Eliot and Ezra Pound. She was really into the Modernists at that time. The subway we took reminded her of Pound's “In a Station of the Metro.” I was impressed that she knew who Ezra Pound was. God, she was geek. I admit I tried to hold her hand, but then recoiled, hoping not to seem so eager — but I definitely was. Her awesomeness was pretty evident. I invited her out to the small town where I was teaching. I gave her my number so she could call me to figure out the logistics for her getting out there the next weekend.

She called and settled our plans for the weekend. But the call that should have, in most cases, lasted five to ten minutes, lasted 6 hours. I had never talked on the phone that long. I'm sure she never had either. We talked about God, St. Augustine,and those crazy Modernists again. Oh, and she had read Charlie Chaplin's autobiography. I had found my match in geekiness. But when she spoke of spiritual things, I sensed a grace and joy, that I had and probably will never find in another person. That night it became clear for us that it would not be long before we would fall in love. Really, I fell in love with her that night. It was clear that we had deep connection.

The next Saturday morning was our first date. It was clear day, warm for November, and we climbed a mountain and visited a Buddhist shrine-- a really holy place. At the bottom of the mountain, after sharing with her the beauty of the ocean which it over-looked, I held her hand for the first time. The glow that appeared on her face then never left it, until less than a week ago, when I held her hands and kissed her forehead and watched her slip away. That day, aside from our wedding and engagement, is the most joyous in my life. And it was to her as well. It has left an indelible mark of Grace upon my soul.

Within a day we had kissed and within several, we were saying, “I love you.” As far as it is possible outside of the movies, this was love at first sight. That week she wrote me,

“I hide my hands in the pockets
of my jacket, my jeans, or
behind my back.

What is written on my palms
that I don't want others to penetrate?

Perhaps it is the quicksilver beam of your eye
bright to behold, and so beautiful
I hesitate to share it.

Perhaps my hands bear your signature.
Should anyone see it,
they would see right through me.”

The night I proposed to her in Beijing, the night sky was filled with fireworks celebrating the Lunar New Year. The night was freezing. We cuddled on the floor near the window, watching the fireworks. I got up on the pretense of getting a cup of tea that had long since gone cold from the nightstand. I bent on one knee and asked, “We will you marry me.” She said, “Of course, I will.” There was no doubt in her mind that I was going to ask her then. Our love was predestined before the foundation of the world and God gave us each other. I hate cliché but in every sense it was meant to be. My life was indelibly changed by Robin and continues to be.

The day we were married, Rob, the rector at Grace Episcopal Church in Amherst said that God had brought Robin and me together for our salvation, and, in turn for the salvation of the world. And that is true. The love Robin and I shared cannot be measured in the time, for time is human invention, and human inventions cannot measure things that are of God. And our love was of God. I am thankful for every bit of it. We all should be. In the last two years before she left, she was happy beyond all imagining. It was the result of a deep indwelling of Grace. A grace that touched me profoundly. Our love was sacred.. Sacramental, even. God ministered himself to us, through our love. We prayed together almost every night when we were together. The Book of Common Prayer Compline service was our daily bedtime routine. And when she lay dying, I spoke the words of the Nunc Dimmitis:

Lord, you now have set your servant free *
   to go in peace as you have promised;
For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, *
   whom you have prepared for all the world to see:
A Light to enlighten the nations, *
   and the glory of your people Israel.

Our God is good and the fact that He gave Robin to us really shows us that. Why He took her away, we can't begin to fathom and we're not meant to. It is all too big for us to understand. But we can trust that she is with Jesus, as she always was, walking with His saints, praying for us like we did for her when she lay in that hospital bed. Robin's prayers will help us get through all this. In the coming Kingdom we'll be with her and she'll tell us how good and strong we all were when she was taken by our eternal father. We have to have faith that this is true. Death can only have its full meaning in the sure and certain hope of the Resurrection. I love you and I miss you, Robin. I can't wait to see you one day.