Peter's Eulogy

Peter was a regular attendee at our church. He was a 53 year old adult with Down Syndrome who lived with his sister Amanda and her family for the past 13 years.  Their love and care for Peter has been an inspiration to us all.  Peter passed away just a few weeks ago.  Amanda’s eulogy of Peter is a moving and sometimes humorous tribute to her brother and a reminder that all life is a precious gift of the Lord. I hope you find this to be a blessing to you as well.

Peter’s Eulogy

First of all, thank you all so much for coming.  To those of you who sent cards and emails, called on the phone, hugged me in the hall, brought food over when I told you I was fine—to those of you who knew what to do when I did not, you have my utmost gratitude and thanks.  To Glenn’s family, my family, who have stood by us the last 13 years, I am so glad for each one of you.  And to the two angels who sat with me at different times in the ICU during those last 4 days, I can never bless your heart as much as you blessed mine.

Peter was born on Sept. 1, 1958, a month premature, and very blue.  When the pediatrician was called, he told the docs he could not come, and so my mother’s obstetrician called another pediatrician whom we did not know, but who came immediately. He got Peter stabilized, and after a time Peter was allowed to come home. 

As I looked at his face for the first time, peering over my mom’s shoulder in the car, I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  My dad turned to me, grieving, because after 3 daughters and wanting another son, this was not the son he had anticipated.  He said, “Amanda, he will never be what you want him to be.” trying to shield me from the heartache that he was feeling.  But the Lord was at work even then, because I was too young to have any expectations.  I was just happy to see this little baby, my new playmate. 

It was decided early that Peter should be placed in an institution so as not to “hurt the other children”, so we made the journey to check out a Training Center that was recommended to us.  My parents were sick at what they saw and the decision was made by them right then that Peter would be a permanent part of our home.  And so it began.

What do you say about someone who met all his baby milestones late; who we didn’t even know if he would meet them at all?  What do you say about someone who never learned to drive, so never owned a car, never married or had children, even though he talked about it all the time, someone who never went to college, never could do the things that we take for granted?  Peter had no influential job, no income to speak of, no relationships like we have that we so treasure, no great ability to communicate since his speech was difficult to understand, no brain that functioned the way a “normal” person’s would.  Peter was trapped inside a body with a brain that limited what he could do.  But what he did have was an enormous ability to make us laugh, and he had an extraordinary ability to say the wrong thing at the right time.  His imitation of Clint Eastwood saying “Go ahead, make my day” is one for the books.  He had a heart for music, so much so that had he been typical, he would have far exceeded the talents of his sisters.  He had an ability to think things through, and it was fascinating to watch.  He loved looking at the moon, and would track its phases on the calendar. He loved football, and understood the game better than I.  He would tell us who was going to win the Super Bowl, and had to have the official hat of the winning team --  because that was his team.    We would say, “I thought the Redskins were your team”, and Peter would respond, “Not any more!”

Peter loved Broadway musicals, and knew all the songs from My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, the King and I, Camelot, Carousel, Showboat, Oklahoma, and probably more that I am forgetting.  He loved John Denver, and knew the lyrics to probably 40 of his songs.  I know, because I had to sing all of those songs with him whenever I came home from college, or came home to visit.  He listened for hours, and his memory was quite keen.  He loved Elvis Presley, and two of the hymns chosen tonight are from an Elvis CD.  He knew all of Elvis’ movies, all the songs from those movies, and who co-starred with Elvis in each of those movies, and was thoroughly disgusted with me when I could not remember who was in which movie.   He was so excited when Glenn came to our home for the first time to meet our folks, and when I said, “Peter, this is Glenn”, he thought I said, “Clint”, which is the name of the hero in the movie, “Love me Tender”. His excitement knew no bounds, thinking that the movie character had come to our home.

Peter was a born musician, just never had the opportunity to perform (except in his bedroom, using his comb as his mic.)  And so to you who let him pick up your violin bow, or your cello bow, and try to play your instrument, you were giving him a gift that neither you nor he could ever have imagined.  And to you who let him put your trumpet to his lips and try to blow, you made his day.  And to the bell choir who let him play his guitar so off key while we practiced, I am so thankful for your patience.  And to the one who gave him a handbell, and told him when to ring it--He loved it.  And to my dear husband who cared enough to try and tune his guitar, when it really did not matter, it was such a measure of love.  You all treated him like a typical person, and for a special needs person, that is the gift that is priceless.  Holy Ground—it puts us on Holy Ground.

Peter loved birthdays and Christmas.  He loved being the center of attention—just like any five year old.  He would inform me in June that his birthday was September 1^st, as if I had forgotten, and would remind me DAILY that his birthday was coming.  And when I told him that we were skipping September one year, and I held the calendar pages together, so that when I flipped from August, October showed up,  he said, “Oh, no”, and flipped the calendar back to September.  “See?  There it is.”  There was no fooling that one. 

And his comic books—his beloved comics, of which I am sure he has over 1000.  He would pour over them for hours, and his favorite number, #4, we think came from the Fantastic Four.

           

As I was gathering Peter’s photos together for his picture boards, I remembered how he loved to mug for the camera; how much he loved chocolate cake with chocolate icing, with chocolate ice cream on the side; how sweet he looked when he was asleep. I was reminded that God uses everyone in this world to make it a better place, even those who don’t fit the “normal” criteria; and even those who are not rich, famous, beautiful, or intelligent. When I was in Romania this past summer, working with special needs adults, I was so thankful for his living example, of how we are not to look at the outward appearance, but how we are to look at the heart, just like our Lord taught us in I Samuel 16:7.  I did not see adults with special needs, who looked different than I. I saw people who I knew would bless my heart that week. 

Peter taught me teamwork, as I came alongside my mother, helping her care for him.  He taught me to never take life for granted, or the gifts that I have been given for granted.  He showed me unconditional love—most of the time.  Next to our mom, he was my biggest cheerleader.  Peter sensed when I was sad, and he rejoiced when I was honored.   To watch one so dear slowly slip away from Alzheimer’s has been a grief that God wanted me to carry; for indeed, he began to slip about 3 years ago.  But I would not have traded places for anything on this earth, because Peter had always stood by me. 

I am so thankful Peter no longer suffers, and I look forward to the day when I can actually talk to him, when we will be reunited upon another shore, and rejoice, because neither one of us suffers any more.  The thought of having a real conversation with him is one I will hold onto for the rest of my life. And I can finally ask him why he threw that croquet ball at me, and almost knocked me unconscious.  Good times.

           

The song that Debbie and Mark are going to play is called the “Hawaiian Love Song”.  It is from the Elvis movie “Blue Hawaii” and it was our song.  We sang it together many times, whenever we were together.  The words are:

“Wise men say, Only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.
Shall I stay? Would it be a sin? For I can’t help falling in love with you.
Like a river flows surely to the sea, Darling so it goes, some things are meant to be.
Take my hand, take my whole life too, For I can’t help falling in love with you.”

And that just about sums it up.  

Thank you so much.

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