Imagine a pebble dropped into a pool.
Text of Eulogy for Ryan
18 April 2006 Church of St Luke: Lakewood OH
The only problem one faces when asked to eulogize Ryan is "where to begin?"
Among my earliest memories is the occasion when I joined his family on a trek to a small amusement park near Youngstown.
We had barely gone through the gates when Ryan [who was still in grammar school] turned to look back at me, extended his right hand and, his face suffused with joy, said "Come on, Al. I want you to take me on the rides."
Our friendship had been sealed.
More than twenty years later, I can see how typically "Ryan" his gesture was. He enjoyed so many things and wanted to share them all--whether he'd cherished your friendship for a long time or not. Friends were friends, and that's what Ryan did with friends: he shared.
Only a few years later, Ann and Al took a well-deserved brief summer vaction in New York. I was glad to have Allison, Ryan and Adam [just a little tyke at the time] as my guests for a week.
One morning Allison sat in my kitchen and, while we enjoyed tea and toast, I sat in amazement as she shared her insights on the world and national situations.
Soon enough Ryan and Adam were ready to begin their day and the merry-go-round began its dizzy spin as this life-long bachelor became "Dad for a Week."
Then a shadow fell momentarily as this surrogate dad did something out of ignorance and folly. My little cat Maxine--a birthday gift from Ryan and Allison--experienced renal failure and needed to be euthanized. I asked Allison if she would stay with Adam while Ryan and I took Maxine to Lakewood Animal Hospital. With Ryan at my side, I watched as the vet entered the examining room and began to prep the cat for a humane end. Suddenly, with tears rolling down his pale cheeks, Ryan blurted out, "Al, I can't watch this" and left the room.
An hour or so later Ryan and I went to Lakewood Park, descended to the Lake Erie shore and had a little chat about God and critters and saying good-bye. It was my first experience with Ryan's sensitive, compassionate side.
What a shattering experience for the "Rhino," as he was sometimes called.
But that week was filled with fun, too, as evidenced by the time Ryan helped me prepare the ingredients for a family-sized omelet.
We'd placed the eggs, onions, sweet peppers and seasonings in a blender--and Ryan was given the honor of pressing the ON button. Neither of us had noticed that I hadn't secured the lid. In short order the omelet-to-be was distributed throughout the kitchen. Ryan and I did not escape unscathed or unspattered.
But we giggled and laughed as we cleaned the kitchen. I don't recall what our replacement meal was, but it didn't matter. Little Maxine was banished from our thoughts for a while, and Ryan's fun side had emerged once again.
Later, when Al and Ann, had reurned, I blabbed everything. Being a wise mom and knowing Ryan's vulnerabilities, instead of shooting me, Ann kept her cool and uttered one of the all-time understatements. "Yes, Ryan doesn't handle death and dying too well."
Years passed and Ryan attended school here at St. Luke's. When the time came for Bishop Pilla to celebrate the rite of confirmation with Ryan and his classmates, Ryan asked me to be his sponsor. Before the rehearsal began, Ryan told me he had chosen his confirmation name: Isaiah. Those who didn't know Ryan well assumed he had selected the name of the Old Testament prophet. Well, not exactly. Ryan had in mind a certain star of the NBA. Yes, Ryan loved sports both as player and a fan. And he shared that, too--as his neighbor and friend Rita can tell you.
His years at St. Ignatius are somewhat of a blur now. (We older folk don't shine when it comes to short-term memory.) One thing, however, remains indelible even today. Ryan shared a research paper he and a classmate had composed back when many of us hadn't used a computer. As I perused Ryan's work, I had to put my jaw back into place. I had graduated from Xavier University in 19__ and most of the the pre-med and pre-engineering students I knew could not have produced work of Ryan's caliber.
As a student at Marquette University Ryan immersed himself in Latin and mediaeval studies.
When Ryan's favorite time of year rolled around, he would don a Santa cap and you didn't have to strain to hear his lusty rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel's Messiah.
I seldom worried about finding suitable gifts for Ryan. A newly-edited text of a mediaeval poetic cycle would do quite well, thank you. Of course Ryan knew all about the editor of the text and had been really looking forward to having a copy of his own.
Or how about a collection of Icelandic sagas, Arthurian legends, Celtic mythology? The list was endless.
Ryan radiated a serene pleasure when he opened those gifts. Then came all-enfolding hugs and lots of "Thank yous." With Ryan one "thank you" never seemed enough.
Gratitude? Yes. You can add that to generosity, sensitivity and a wide-ranging, brilliant intellect.
I haven't even touched upon his love of family--including his special bond with his sister Allison, his nephews Alex, Aiden and Tommy; his extraordinary ties to his Lakewood neighbors--and especially his loving parents Al and Ann.
Ryan's benevolent influence on so many reminds me of something a kindly but fragile Jesuit priest told me when I was a student at St. Ignatius. "Imagine a pebble dropped into a pool. The ripples spread in ever-widening circles until they reach the pool's edge. A man's influence is often as far-reaching. And, if he's a truly good man, he can enrich an entire world."
I know that all of you who knew Ryan and loved him so much, regard him as one of those men.
He touched so many lives. We are all the richer for it. Indeed, heaven is a richer place today.
Good-by, Ryan.
We love you.
See you soon.
[Allan Krepina St Ignatius: '58 Xavier U: '62]
posted by Rongstad @ 10:52 AM
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