Over the past few days, I have had the opportunity to talk with many of those who were close to Jeremy, and to read some of the notes written by his many friends who could not be here today.  It has been a humbling experience.  I have known Jeremy for virtually all of his too-short life, and while I thought I knew him fairly well, there were also many surprises.

Most of you probably know that Jeremy graduated from Galesburg High School this past spring.  He also attended Wayland Academy in Wisconsin for a portion of his high school years, playing on the football team for a time, and serving on the yearbook staff.  He planned to attend Lincoln College this coming fall, where he had already arranged to room with his childhood friend, Danny Bent.

This was a life that, in many respects, was only just beginning.  It is hard not to speculate on the future, hard not to feel cheated by the cutting short of youthful promise.  But "death can only take from us what might have been.  It cannot rob us of our past.” And so we turn to the precious years we had with Jeremy, and strive to hold onto our memories.

What was Jeremy like as a child and young adult?  Perhaps what one noticed first, especially as a child, was his sheer physical exuberance.  Jeremy was energetic and athletic, the type of person who enjoyed playing pick-up games of basketball and rugby with neighborhood friends.  Organized sports, on the other hand, held little appeal for him, as he was always strongly independent, a “free spirit” by anyone’s account.  In school, this independent streak meant that he sometimes felt the strictures of the traditional classroom more keenly than other students.  He flourished at the Montessori school he attended during 6th grade while the family was on sabbatical in Chicago.  Its individually-paced curriculum was a perfect match for Jeremy’s most effective learning style, and by the end of the year his teacher there recommended that he be considered for the Gifted Program, which he successfully tested into when he returned to Galesburg.  But school was never Jeremy’s favorite place to be.

Jeremy was passionate about many of the things that occupy other young men his age – popular music, movies, and all manner of computer-related games and activities.  (He is also reputed to have played a wicked game of Trivial Pursuit!)  But perhaps the most significant thing I learned about Jeremy these past few days was the enormous role he accorded to friendship in his life, something that will probably come as no surprise to the young people here today.  Jeremy had an extraordinary capacity both to be a friend to others, and to attract other people who wanted to be a friend to him.  His friends described him as generous and loyal, someone who “touched anyone who met him.”  Jeremy had a playful, even quirky side that his friends delighted in, recalling past adventures and misadventures with typical youthful glee.  They loved his wry sense of humor, which he often used as a way to connect with others, establishing long-running verbal jokes with his friends, jokes that helped them feel close to Jeremy even when his feelings were otherwise kept well hidden.

Reading the comments in his yearbook, and talking with his friends, one gets the feeling that Jeremy was seen by his peers as a person true to himself, generous with his friends, and unwilling to follow the beaten track.  They clearly admired his independence, enjoyed his company, missed him when he was away, and wanted to look out for his well-being.  The tremendous loyalty and affection he had inspired among his friends was painfully clear, and I am thankful I had the opportunity to learn more about this side of Jeremy’s life.

I knew Jeremy best during the earlier years of his life, helping Penny care for him during the period of their life when David was in graduate school in Madison and gone for one day a week.  We did all sorts of things together, but the mainstay of our relationship revolved around the new children’s books I would find and bring to him, wondering which ones would meet with his approval, and which would be found lacking.  Recently, Penny reminded me of one that he especially liked, a book by Mordecai Gerstein called The Mountains of Tibet.  In it, a Tibetan woodcutter who has just died is given the choice of either becoming part of the endless universe, or of living another life.  Although ostensibly intended as a simplified introduction to Tibetan Buddhist cosmology, the woodcutter – in good Jewish fashion – chooses life. 

Was this what Jeremy liked about it?  Or was it the appealing picture of smiling and hopeful young couples, arms outstretched, calling the soon-to-be-reborn soul to choose them as parents and come to live in their house?  I like to think that he imagined David and Penny taking him in when he looked at that picture, for surely one of the greatest supports in his life has been their loving care of him these past eighteen years.  Jeremy was “a gift from God” (the meaning of his Hebrew name, Natan El), but David and Penny were also a gift to him.  Thoughtful and devoted parents, they ensured that his short stay on earth was the best it could possibly be and, although he may not have always voiced it, anyone who knew Jeremy could quickly tell how grateful he was for their unwavering love and guidance.

Jeremy was a “free spirit,” and that doesn’t always fit easily in this world.  And like a breath of wind, it leaves a vacuum when it’s gone.  There are no words that can make that loss disappear.  It is the price paid for love and life.  May these memories be a comfort.

At this point, please take a moment of silence to reflect upon your own memories of Jeremy.