My Memorial Speech

I went through several concepts of what I could possibly say at my brother's memorial, ranging from inspirational to quirky and anecdotal, but deep down I knew there would never be a single speech that could possibly do Sam or that event any justice. I finally realized that I had to keep it fairly simple - to address things that Sam and I believed in, and to acknowledge the love I had for him. Anything else at that time would have been superfluous. In hindsight, I wish I could have worked an amusing anecdote into the speech anyway, but as I was closing the ceremony, I had to take a different approach:

I shared a movie with my dad after Sam passed away called “Jerome Bixby’s Man From Earth.” For those of you who don’t know, Jerome Bixby was an accomplished science fiction writer who penned what are now considered the best episodes of Star Trek and The Twilight Zone that were ever written. Man From Earth was a concept that Bixby had in his youth that he got to complete with his son as he lay on his deathbed – a final project to wrap up his entire life’s work.

The Man From Earth is about a college professor who attempts to convince his fellow collegiates that he is, in fact, an immortal who has been in existence since before recorded time. The entire film is a slap in the face to skepticism, and a chance for the most ruthless Spock among us to admit that anything, actually, is possible.

So is that faith? I think that’s an important question to address. If I took ten people here now and asked them to explain faith to me, I’m quite certain I’d get the same elements, but I’m also quite certain I’d get totally different answers. Is faith believing that anything is possible? Is it believing without seeing? Is it so personal and subjective that Oxford can’t do the word justice?

I listened to a doctor tell me that my brother wasn’t going to survive two weeks, and then watched him live for three and a half months. Based on all the facts, it seems like a medical implausibility. What can I do to explain it to myself? Jerome Bixby’s main character, when confronted with a mountain of doubt and impossibility, would make the claim, “Pretend it’s science fiction. Make it work.”

Science tells me that the universe exists in multiple dimensions. It tells me that I am swimming in particles that both free and restrict my movements. I believe these things, but I have no idea how they work. You could explain the mechanics to me until you’re blue in the face, but truthfully, there’s no need to. For one, I have no idea what you’re talking about, and for another, the hard work is done. I believe you, man. It’s real. It’s happening. I took what little knowledge I had, and the rest of the blanks were filled in by my imagination. It’s like a baseball game that I couldn’t buy tickets to. I’m not going to hop the fence and get in trouble when I can listen to it on the radio.

Three and a half months. Was it time that we treasure – time with someone we love that we never thought we could have? Yes. Was it enough? No.

But we have it. We have our time with Sam. That’s our realm of fact – our body of knowledge. People tell me I knew my brother better than anybody. Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I just knew him well enough to fill in the blanks.

Time is going to keep on going. Pretty soon it’s going to be a week later. And then a month. And then, somehow, a year is going to pass. And I’m going to look back at this time, right now, and say, “I did this. I survived this. I don’t know how in the hell I did it, but I did. I remember my brother, and he was beautiful. He will always be beautiful.”

And it happened because I made it work. The concept of faith is not owned by anyone. No organized religion can claim that their version of faith is the only one. Faith is what we make, and we make it because it is necessary.

We can do this.