Thank you ladies and gentlemen
for allowing me to speak here today.
I have not delivered too many eulogies in my life and this one is
probably going to be the hardest I’ll ever had to perform. I did not have the privilege of knowing
this incredible man who left our hearts and souls prematurely. Our physical paths crossed too briefly
when we both attended a barbeque last summer at the home of a mutual friend
named, Kate Palmer. But from
learning about him through the blog entries of his mother, Caroline Crane, and
seeing all the people who have come to honor him today…I desperately wish there
was an opportunity to turn back the clock and reach out to him. Especially if I had known the level of
anguish he was battling. I have
heard enough wonderful things about him to speak at this service honoring his
contributions, stunted potential, and friendships that were cultivated with all
of you.
Despite being
blessed with the support of his incredible mother, Caroline Crane, many of you
in he congregation, Ryo was someone who did not receive too many “breaks” in
his life, but seemed to do the absolute best he could with his social
challenges. As most of you already
know, these challenges revolved around an undiagnosed case of Asperger’s
syndrome or mild autism. Yet he
persisted with the passion of an underdog in a constant search for mercy in a
world that often treated him like a square peg grindings its way into a round
hole. A world that reacted with
fear and ignorance when that was easier than giving him the benefit of the
doubt. But for most of his
life, Ryo never gave up, which is one of the factors that probably exacerbated
his misery. When something was
broken…he wanted to try and fix it.
When a misunderstanding occurred, he attempted to resolve it. When there were unanswered questions…he
fought for closure. When someone
was afraid of his benign eccentricities…he put all his energy into helping them
absolve that fear. His determined
soul was not built for a society that often preferred to give up in favor of
what is easiest.
Ryo never
stopped looking for a community to would show unconditional acceptance or at
least differentiate between Asperger’s syndrome & malicious behavior. Even if this meant moving across the
country in search for a better life in Los Angeles, Ryo took these actions and
more. Ryo was a survivor in both the metaphorical and literal sense of the
word. Even during the grueling,
six month regimen of chemotherapy to treat his bout with colon cancer, he
refused to give up on work and life.
As his mother, Caroline, wrote in a recent blog entry, Rather than be
dependant, he asked the oncologist to go easy on whatever sedative they added
to lessen the discomfort. He wanted to stay awake both for driving and for
work. His fellow staff members knew he was being treated, but only one, who had
been through it himself, really understood the physical and emotional toll.
There were several factors
contributing to Ryo’s unfortunate choice, although it is not fair to blame
specific individuals for his departure.
But what I do know is things could have, would have, and should have
been resolved with a semblance of dialogue and additional compassion. I will not let this go and hopefully
you won’t either as we search for answers and most important…prevention of
future tragedies. Ryo is
someone who I would have liked to know better and he could have made a profound
difference in my life. The irrational fear and constant misunderstandings that
plagued his life are something I can relate to because we share the same
diagnosis. I can also empathize
with the feelings of profound helplessness and sometimes wanting to give up in
the worst way possible. Ryo is
definitely a man I would have wanted in my life who could have offered hope
during dark periods. In return, I
would have done my best to return the favor. Let the Ryo’s of today and tomorrow know there is an entire
congregation of individuals who care about them and will help them fight for
ourselves.
No comments:
Post a Comment