This is the eulogy that I wrote (with David’s help) and read at my sister Mary’s funeral.
Mary was a sister. Mary was a daughter. Mary was a friend. But most of all, Mary was our inspiration to be better people, better children, and better brothers and sisters. Mary was the kind of person that everyone aspires to be. She was happy, and no one could take that away from her.
Mary was far too young to have left this world, but she exhibited in countless ways a maturity that even after several decades most people fail to attain. Though she always remained innocent, she didn’t feel the need to construct a fantasy world. She saw the world as it was, and was content to approach it with a practical mind.
Mary also had no time for small talk. She couldn’t understand why people would choose to squander their time with things of little importance. There was simply too much to be done. Too many books to read. Too many horses to ride. Too many lives to forever brighten with her cheerful optimism.
Mary didn’t speak ill of others, and she was always quick to gently counter those who did, graciously providing an example of the goodness of the person in question.
While there was a lot that I had yet to teach Mary, there were so many more things that she had yet to teach me; so many more things that she had yet to teach all of us. Lessons about humility, kindness and honesty. Lessons about purity, optimism and gratitude.
Mary was special… unique. She was the type of girl that boys wouldn’t even attempt to pursue romantically… they’d know instantly they weren’t good enough for her. Mary’s perfection made everyone else’s imperfection impossible to deny or ignore. And her example made the path to similar perfection seem obvious and attainable. But though the path to such perfection is simple and clear-cut, it is anything but easy. Mary worked tirelessly to reach that highest level of virtue. Her efforts were clearly visible, especially within the last year of her life.
Mary had the type of mind that could have easily led her to look down upon the rest of humanity as failures. She possessed enough physical beauty that she could have easily put herself on a pedestal and pointed out our imperfections from a safe distance. But no… Mary chose humility. Mary chose to be quietly perfect.
Mary’s faith was never loud, but it was always evident and it was unwavering. It was a simple faith. She loved God, she knew God loved her, and she wanted to make God happy by living a life of virtue. Her faith was communicated to the world by her actions. God’s love was demonstrated through her by the way she treated everyone she encountered, and especially by the way she treated her family.
She was always so obedient. My father never had to ask Mary to do something twice. Even when she didn’t like the decisions he was making for her, she knew that they were made with her best interests in mind. She was very aware that he was there to guide her as she blossomed into a beautiful woman. We all helped share that responsibility — we would joke that any boys would have to get approval from every one of us before they’d even be able to approach her.
Mary did everything with her mother. They were more than a mother and a daughter to each other. They were best friends. They rode horses together, they shopped together, they even liked a lot of the same music. The barn was their secret clubhouse. It was the one place they could go without having the boys intrude on their girl time.
Mary’s uniqueness was also noticed outside our family. Mary’s same-aged friends noticed it. “Mary is different from the other girls,” one remarked. And Mary had a profound influence on her friends, helping bring them through hard times and helping them mature as she did. Mary’s maturity made her an attractive friend to people ten years her senior. Her older brothers’ girlfriends would rather spend time with Mary than with friends their own age.
There is no doubt in my mind that Mary is watching down on us from heaven right now. After so many years of her being our precious pearl that we protected, it is now her turn to watch over us.