In Memoriam
With the fifth anniversary of Julian's death just passed, I thought I'd share my eulogy from his funeral. Julian: You are missed, you are loved, you are remembered.
Since Julian’s death, a theme which has come up repeatedly is that of light. I lay down last night exhausted, and wondered what I would say today. As I rested, some thoughts came. I hope you’ll bear with me as I share them.
Amongst the Kabbalists, some taught that the universe was created thus: ten vessels were made ready for the divine light, which was to pour forth from one vessel into the next. This cascade of divine light and the vessels which held it would be the perfect unfolding of the divine plan. Sadly, this was not to be. Most of the vessels, unable to contain the light, shattered into fragments, scattering the light hither and yon. This is the world we find ourselves in: a hodge-podge of the divine light mixed with the remnants of vessels made to contain it, but unable to in their imperfection. And as above, so below: this is us, vessels for light, each flawed and broken in places, absolutely imperfect, but nevertheless with something inexpressibly divine which flows through us. We hold as much of the light as we can, and transmit it to others.
When Julian and I met, we were two of the resident geeks at General Gordon elementary school. Geeks tend to congregate, and it was amongst the band of misfits at the school that Julian and I found each other, and I found in Julian one of my best and longest-lasting friends. On weekends he would often sleep over, and we would stay up late into the night drinking ginger-ale, eating pizza, and talking about superheroes, transformers, the soul, aliens, girls, and the other great Mysteries. I found in Julian someone who shared my wonder at the universe, and my passion for trying to understand it. In Julian I found an amazing font of light, which shone fiercely. This despite the fact that showing one’s true face, mask free, at elementary school is dangerous and taboo: an unwillingness or inability to “follow the social rules” meant banishment to the misfits. Nevertheless, for those who could see, Julian shone, and his brilliance, warm heart, curiosity, fierce loyalty, and quirky and quick sense of humor have fundamentally helped shape what I look for in a friend, who I am, and who I want to be, and have inspired me to try to be genuine, and to shine as I can.
We entered our respective high-schools, and as we grew, so did our friendship; and as our groups of friends changed, evolved, grew, mixed, and fissioned, we found ourselves amongst a group of truly extraordinary people. One can learn a tremendous amount about a person by the friends and family they are surrounded by; those friends and family gathered here, and those unable to be here, are a testament to the quality of character Julian possessed.
Julian had faults too. He could be infuriating, frustrating, obnoxious. He had a lot of anger that he didn’t know what to do with. And his increasingly extreme mood-swings were a source of worry to family and friends alike. We do not honour someone by pretending they had no faults. We honour them by seeing the truth of them as best we can, and celebrating who they were and the role they play in our lives. Julian has given me more than I can describe. I hope to honour him by learning better how to give some of the gifts he gave me to others, and to do so with the selflessness and wholeheartedness of which he was capable.
Julian is no longer with us in body. No more will he pick up the guitar to show us the new Sarah McLachlan song he’s learned. He won’t drink coffee with us until the birds begin to sing, talking about the nature of the world, the problems in it, and how to maybe make them better. He won’t be the life of the party. He won’t crash at our houses again for a day... two days... three days.... He won’t walk into the room with a grin, and a warm greeting, instantly letting you know he loves and accepts you fully, no questions asked. That vessel which held so much light is broken.
But Julian’s role in our lives is by no means finished. Each of us carries one of the fragments of that vessel of light within us. In coming together, in sharing what Julian has been and is to each of us, in celebrating his life, his gifts, and our memories, and in mourning our loss we learn more about who he was, and we share the light that he’s shared with us.
I grieve deeply for the loss that comes for all of us with Julian’s death. And I celebrate the awesome light Julian has given to us over the years, a light which only now in his absence do I begin to fully appreciate. And I celebrate the strong and vibrant communities and relationships of which Julian was and is a key part. Julian has so permeated my life that I know I will continue to learn from him for as long as I live.
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.
“Leonard Cohen” - Anthem
