Some of you probably remember that I lost a really special friend back in 2013. Alysia was 17 when she passed, and had had medical issues her entire life. She was never able to eat properly, and always had a tube leading straight to her stomach that was used to give her specialized formula, or a long term IV line for giving her nutritional fluid and medicines. For a long time she had both. She had hundreds of surgical procedures, there wasn't much of her that hadn't seen a scalpel.
I met her family when my own daughter was born 16 weeks early, and her mother Janet and I spent hours and hours together in the hospital over the months with our sick babies. My girl, Anya, grew out of her problems. By the time she was 5 you'd never have known what a rough start she had. Alysia just never really managed to fly.
She was able to do some really neat things during her life. Even though she was tiny (under 5" tall, and so, so thin), and in terrible pain, she did a lot of stuff that no one imagined she would. Or that she would want to!
I was asked to speak at her memorial service, because I was her "Aunt Jen." She was my bonus daughter, born to the woman who would have been my sister if we were allowed to choose such things for ourselves. Also, because I clearly have no issues getting up in front of a crowd and talking. And talking....
I'm posting this here because something I saw in another thread made me think about it. This isn't a normal eulogy. It's about what I learned being Aunt Jen to such an extraordinary girl, and how I'm a very different person after being with her all those times she woke up in the recovery room, but also at all of her dance showcases.
Lest you think I'm a horrible person with no sense of propriety, which I am but I wasn't on that day, I'm wearing tie dye because she and I made tie dye stuff together all the time and we were supposed to wear something that connected us to Alysia. There were people there in dance wear, Halloween costumes, cheer uniforms, and an ocean of her favorite color. It was awesome!
This video starts with her mom, Janet, then a wonderful young woman friend of the family. I come in around 11 minutes in, and then finish in another clip.
I met her family when my own daughter was born 16 weeks early, and her mother Janet and I spent hours and hours together in the hospital over the months with our sick babies. My girl, Anya, grew out of her problems. By the time she was 5 you'd never have known what a rough start she had. Alysia just never really managed to fly.
She was able to do some really neat things during her life. Even though she was tiny (under 5" tall, and so, so thin), and in terrible pain, she did a lot of stuff that no one imagined she would. Or that she would want to!
I was asked to speak at her memorial service, because I was her "Aunt Jen." She was my bonus daughter, born to the woman who would have been my sister if we were allowed to choose such things for ourselves. Also, because I clearly have no issues getting up in front of a crowd and talking. And talking....
I'm posting this here because something I saw in another thread made me think about it. This isn't a normal eulogy. It's about what I learned being Aunt Jen to such an extraordinary girl, and how I'm a very different person after being with her all those times she woke up in the recovery room, but also at all of her dance showcases.
Lest you think I'm a horrible person with no sense of propriety, which I am but I wasn't on that day, I'm wearing tie dye because she and I made tie dye stuff together all the time and we were supposed to wear something that connected us to Alysia. There were people there in dance wear, Halloween costumes, cheer uniforms, and an ocean of her favorite color. It was awesome!
This video starts with her mom, Janet, then a wonderful young woman friend of the family. I come in around 11 minutes in, and then finish in another clip.