April 11, 2004

To Greg's Family

Last Tuesday night, Greg stopped by at the end of our Passover Seder. The table was loaded with food, but all Greg would eat was a plate of sweet potatoes. Only later did I realize that he was observing dietary restrictions during Holy Week. That was so typical of Greg; in his quiet way he would do the right thing, without calling attention to himself and without making anyone else feel uncomfortable.   In the many years I was honored to have known Greg, he always did the right thing. Whenever "the kids"  (you know who I mean--that group who almost seemed to be extensions of each other) were going to do something or go somewhere I always asked if Greg was going to be there. Somehow, it always seemed to be a better plan if Greg was along. Those trips to Cedar Point, Grant Park on the Fourth of July, to movies, Steak n/Shake, downtown late at night-- all of those seemed to be much better ideas if Greg was there. That was the kind of young man he was. I had complete confidence in his judgment and his intelligence. He, more than any young person I  knew, seemed to possess sensibility in excess of his age. And, he was kind and good. And, he was a very fast runner! On more than one occasion it was Greg's fleetness and agility that ran down our errant dog, who looked for every opportunity to escape when the door was open. Once, Greg even saved Annie when she got caught in the undertow on a dunes trip.   

How can we ever imagine life without him....

Your love and wisdom created the young man Greg became; the loyalty and camaraderie of his friends burnished and polished his developing persona until he positively glowed. We all loved Greg so much, and treasure every moment and memory that we shared with him. Your incalculable loss is beyond consolation; the loss we all share will be a constant pain. I can imagine the mature man that Greg would have become because I saw how straight and strong he had grown in the years I knew him. I trust that his friends will honor his life with the quality and goodness of their own and, in that way bring a small measure of peace to all of you.

Donna

(Annie's mom)