The Unspoken Eulogy

The following is a eulogy prepared by our very, very good friends Joe and Jackie. At Amy’s celebration of life, Claire, Morgan, Carson, Mary and I each prepared a eulogy. We were unaware that they had also prepared to speak as well. Today marks one year since our family’s loss. We thought this would be the perfect time to share their thoughts. 

I’m Joe Gessner.  My wife, Jackie, and I wanted to offer up a few memories.

Jackie said to me the problem in talking about Amy is not about where to begin but where to end.  There are so many stories.  It is hard to choose just a few.  But we will try.

Now I can’t quite recall when I first heard anyone refer to her as Miss Amy.  But it was so apt.  Miss Amy.  Just like a southern belle.  So sweet, so kind, so genteel.  And she was from the south.  Just a Polish belle from the south side of Milwaukee.

There were two kinds of people in Amy’s world: family and friends.  If you weren’t the former, you were the latter.  But only for 10 minutes.  You could be a neighbor friend, a work friend, or a new friend from the next table over.  Give Amy 10 minutes, and you would feel like family. 

Some of you may know us as Mark and Amy’s camping friends; this was particularly fortunate for us during the early days of the pandemic, as camping was one of the few things we could do together.  Amy was a fabulous cook, and camp cooking was a particular gift.  She spoiled us with her tomato bacon bread and her breakfast burritos over morning campfires, while we did our best not to burn the bacon while turning her on to the wonders of camp coffee, spiked with a little Baileys.  Yes, we were definitely a bad influence. 

I first met Mark over 30 years ago at work.  It wasn’t long before I got to know Amy as well and discovered that we all shared a love of games, especially board games and cards.

I learned early on that Amy cared more about the enjoyment of the game, and the time we spent together as friends, than about who won.  There were more than a few times that Mark and I might be a touch too competitive and she would remind us to “just get over yourselves.”

Now Jackie would be the first to tell you that she is not much of a card player.  But she loved being Amy’s partner in the card game of 500.   Amy was incredibly patient as Jackie never really learned the nuances of the game, and instead taught her to “go for it,” usually with excellent results.  “I’m feeling edgy, girlfriend,” was her refrain.

You can’t speak of the Youngquist love of games without talking of baseball.  There can be no question that is the dominant game in the Youngquist household.

The stories of the boys’ baseballs travels are legion, cheered on by their even more sports savvy sister, a proud dad and a loving mom who was always more concerned with their sportsmanship and their effort than she ever worried about wins and losses or personal accolades.  Amy’s cheers from the stands of “Just Do Your Best, Buddy,” were the words the boys likely heard most often.

Amy also loved the beauty of baseball; she understood its pastoral elegance.  During baseball season she would fall asleep in bed watching a game, any game, with Mark next to her, gently rubbing her arm.

Amy has always been the best person in any room, in any gathering that we’ve ever been part.  Her livelong embrace of Joy was part of what made her so special.  Like many of you, we wear the bracelet that reminds us  every day to Choose Joy, to be grateful for every blessing.

But if we were to make a 2nd bracelet for Amy, we think it would be “Choose Kindness.”  In a world where so many people choose to assume the worst about each other, Amy encourages us to assume the best.  To not presume malintent.  To have empathy for one another.  To be kind. 

Amy always put herself in the shoes of her fellow human being.  If some stranger was particularly nasty or rude, and we might be tempted to respond in kind, Amy would remind us that we could not know what particular hardships that person might be going through, and encouraged us to be understanding.  To be kind.  To avoid judging people.    

Amy could make very funny and irreverent observations about people.  But it was never cruel or cutting.  She somehow found a way to share her thoughts without judgment.  If she observed a young lady who had chosen to dress in a way that might create the wrong impression, Amy might say something like “Ooh, what an interesting outfit,” or “I wonder what she was thinking when she got dressed this morning?” or “where was her mother before she went out the door?”  In such a situation, Amy’s instinct was a mother’s concern, not a stranger’s contempt. 

Amy made everyone around her better just by being in her presence.  We will never be able to match her commitment to Joy, or her inimitable Kindness.  All we can do is to try to do one thing every day to be just a little bit more like Amy.  And if we all do that, the world will be just a little bit better place.