Letter to my Brother
This morning, I sat staring at my computer screen for a long time thinking of a way to start this letter to you, but could never find the right words to begin. Any letter of this kind can never fully express how one feels about the impact and influence that another has had on his life. I still cannot even think like this—anything having to do with you being gone- I feel sick to my stomach about it. But I would like to try and share a bit about the monumental influence you had my life; an influence that has made me who I am, and an impact that will stay with me through all of my days.
One of the great highlights of 2017 was having the privilege to spend a whole week with you, Julie and Auggie in the summer, and then our family visit to your and Julie’s home in the fall. In July, it was my delight meeting you on the pier and seeing you in your element: driving a boat and being out on the water, partnering with Julie yet again in creating exciting adventures with those you love, and just being out and experiencing this world. Within moments, I was on board, with a firm handshake, then a hug, then a beer, a cheese plate, and of course, swimming. Your big smile, twinkling eyes, warm hugs, and your genuine, fun-loving personality always made me feel immediately that no time had passed, each time we got together. This is the Jason I will always remember, and the Jason that all were privileged to know. I never told you this, but the first time I met you, I was so impressed and I admit even a bit intimidated. I admired your confidence and ability to motivate people. I thought to myself: here is another freshman the same age as me, and he is already such a leader- he is helping out the seniors coach our rowing program, he is running the Root Jessup speakers program, and taking a lead role in the College Republicans. He is well-spoken, organized, and has the courage to take on difficult challenges. I must say that although I was a bit intimidated by you, after a few conversations, the kind, funny, adventurous, spirited person came out, and I hoped we would become friends. We bonded with a shared sense of silly humor; we held long conversations about history, Star Wars, the Dukes of Hazzard, music, and even clothing.
When you and I talked about our plans for sophomore year and you said you wanted to be roomates, I must say I was flattered that you would want to share a room with me. During our sophomore year, ours was the cleanest, best decorated, most organized room on campus, and we both wanted it that way. A tour guide once even brought a group to see our room! We agreed we wanted to avoid the filth of the fraternities and the messy rooms that were everywhere. I think we were the only students on campus who made our beds every day and tucked in the sheets. You had that rabbit stuffed animal propped up on the pillow every day on your striped comforter; I loved seeing it whenever I entered the room. We wanted a sanctuary from the rest of campus, and we created it. Upon reflection, our room was also a sanctuary for our childhood that was disappearing. When some others on campus were busy trying to act more like grown ups, we made sure to keep our inner child alive; something I deeply admire you for doing your entire life. We played silly music, we jumped on the beds a few times, we played video games, and only inside that room, you wore that ridiculous hat with the Moose antlers and made goofy sounds. You would talk in your sleep, giving rowing commands. I always enjoyed being woken up by your random comments. My favorite thing you said one night was: “the girls in the four, they row together, but they don’t know eachother!” We talked about what you said the next day and you laughed and laughed. Later you would often ask me to remind you what you said while asleep, just to have a laugh. We even hid under the beds one morning when the security guards were shooting a rabid raccoon that was right next to our window and just laughed at how crazy it was to be woken by “rent-a-cops” with “heaters.” You also introduced me to good wine. We had that bottle of Belvedere on the bedside table most of the year, then one Saturday night, we shared some of it and then took it to a party with friends. You even jumped in the huge ice bucket used to keep beverages, wearing your tri-corner hat, and dancing to “whoop there it is!” There were so many moments we had together in college when you just let go and filled the room with joy, silliness, and pure Jason: and we were all better off for it.
When I think about your life, you lived by the philosophy I have come to believe is the closest way to take a part of heaven, and share it with those on this earth. I guess I have always known this, and thinking of you so much over these past few days has assured me it is true. The best way I can explain it is from Tolstoy. In a short story called The Three Questions, he wrote about a king trying to learn to be a wise ruler. In his search for wisdom, the king asks the following questions:
What is the best time to do things? Who is the most important one? What is the right thing to do? All of us have an incredible amount of choice in life, and fate to some extent deals all of us our cards. The ways you chose to live your life and treat others around you are the answers to these three challenging questions. What is the best time to do things? For Jason, the answer was the same as Tolstoy’s: “right now.” You are someone who lived for the moment, someone for whom the phrase “carpe diem” rings true. On Sunday afternoons during college, when others would be sleeping off a hangover, you would call me up and ask me to go for a drive. We would meander through the hills and dales of Central New York and squeeze every moment of daylight out of those cold winter days, stopping on the side of the road to visit antique shops, driving to a viewpoint, going for hikes and walks in new places we found on a map. Last July during my visit, when we were heading to bed after midnight, you asked me if I wanted to wake up before 5am to watch the sunrise. I am not sure I would have said yes to any other person: I knew I would be exhausted, but I also knew your excitement in experiencing that event would give me energy to stay awake. I was right. You wanted to experience it all and seize the moment, and wanted to share those experiences with others. You and Julie were partners in crime in your quest to fill your days with life. Your fun-filled adventures on the weekends, shared love of music, laughter, and nights out in NYC and under the stars in NH were sources of joy for you, and I always enjoyed hearing you tell me about them when I was in far-away Thailand. Lloyd, Tim, and I often talk about how much we admire your willingness to do things “right now” and savor those precious moments. Never did grass grow under your, Julie, and Auggie’s feet.
Who is the most important one? Again, with Tolstoy, your answer was: “the one you are with.” Jason, you have the ability to make the person you are talking to feel like the most important person in the room at that moment. As I sit here, I recall your many facial expressions that you have when you talked to me. They all send non-verbal signals of warmth, interest, enthusiasm, concern, or kindness. There is an energy that you devote to people and human relationships that makes the person you are talking with feel valued. Every time we met after college ended, you asked many questions and were always interested in my life, and I was so fortunate to be a part of yours every year. I was even more glad to be a part of your and Julie’s shared life together. By treating others like they were the most important ones, you made close and extremely loyal friends wherever you went. Tim, Lloyd and I are but a few of the many. The amount you engage with those around you is remarkable, and it is in so many ways an act of kindness and care. By making those around you feel important, you showed us a way to live and treat others; small daily acts of kindness to the ones you are with-- it is the way to bring heaven to earth.
What is the right thing to do? Tolstoy’s response was: “to do good for the one who is at your side.” For as long as I have known you, you have given love and dedication to those around you. I first saw it with rowing. You gave a tremendous amount of your time, energy and emotion for four years. And if that were not enough, you worked hard to raise money to turn our fledgling program into a strong organization. We started with heavy, partially-rotten boats sitting outdoors on milk crates on a muddy path known as “Muck Road” in our first year, and ended with a beautiful boat house, new boats and oars, and most important a record of strong and steady improvement. It was only fitting that the team dedicated one of the boats as the “Jason P. Andris”. Jason, you are an investor - and certainly a success in the world of finance and business. But your greatest investment was in people. You grew this program with your love for all of us and your love for experiences. You made a much greater impact than you know on me, and on the scores of rowers in your program- and yes, it was ​your program when we were there and even beyond. I gained self-confidence from rowing under your guidance, and benefited so much from your coaching style: firm and demanding, but also warm and encouraging. It was a style that I emulated when I later coached rowing. Your coaching style spoke to me and motivated me like no other coach I had ever had in school. You were never negative, never berated anyone, and always conducted yourself like a gentleman. You made all of us want to row for you as much as for our school. We called you “chump” (according to legend, you once playfully called someone a chump, and we all decided we liked that expression so much it would become our term of endearment for you). “Do it for Coach Chump” was our mantra. The love came right back at you Jason and for years when I was getting together with “crewbies” and when you were not there, your name always came up with reverence, a funny story, and love. Your investment in me as my coach, not to mention as my friend, continues to pay dividends. You never asked for anything in return; you just did it out of love. There is no way Hamilton Crew would be where it is today if it were not for Jason Andris and family. I know that you continued this love and dedication to the ones you were with when you were dating Julie and in your years of marriage. Patience and I could see the way you were together, the way you looked at Julie, the way you talked to her and about her were loving and made us glad to be around you. I remember how happy you were when telling me the story about going to Colorado and surprising Julie’s parents with a singing group and a wonderful weekend together. It gave you happiness that you could all celebrate with your wife and her parents. You sent me photos of your visits to Colorado, to Europe, and everything in between. And most recently and in many ways most important, this past fall, I remember your delight and joy in sharing the news about Julie being pregnant while we were having dinner at the Seawanhaka Yacht Club, the same special place where you had your wedding reception. We had been together that afternoon sailing on the antique boats (yet another life experience I would never had without you), and I know it must have been hard for you to wait until dinner to tell me. You were hopeful and excited, and you talked about your future as a family with anticipation and love.
But Jason, I must say to you that Tolstoy’s answer to the third question is also the most troubling for me to reconcile with what I know of you. Your decision to end your life is so inexplicable, because in everyone’s view, you are someone who always “did good for the one who is at your side.” This decision is so out of character to who you are and the Jason I have known since I was a teenager. It shows in such raw and cruel terms the haunting side of mental illness, an illness that is often misunderstood, and more often hidden. Our societal decision to attach shame to this “unspoken malady” angers me to no end, as it is nothing to be ashamed about. It is one of many illnesses that have plagued humans since our origins and it can be treated. We talked about this and I know you agreed there is no shame, but we also acknowledged that the logic and reason that make this true are weaker when emotion takes over, and with depression emotion takes control and skews logic and reality. As you know, I have also suffered from depression, and many many others have as well. It is so common and anyone is vulnerable. Yet few acknowledge it. You and I never had it until our middle age. You and others helped me recover and you shared your advice and listened to me when I asked you for help. When you told me you were not feeling well around the holidays, we talked and kept this dialogue going. When I asked how you were doing with your health, you told me about your sadness but kept the comments brief or sometimes changed the subject. You kept things to yourself that your closest friends and family never knew and the extent of your suffering was much more that we understood. This is something all who know and love you may never come to peace with throughout our lives. We would have moved the earth for you Jason. Everyone in your life who knew you would have done this. What we do all know is that in your heart you always did what you thought was best to do good for the one at your side. Maybe your illness made you think you were doing what was best, I will never know. I do know that the tremendous good you have done over a lifetime shines a light on this dark day to all of us here mourning your loss. The sting of your loss will never go away, but neither will your light. This light is what I hope we can all carry with us, and I hope Tim, Lloyd and I can share some of this light that you gave us with Olivia when the time is right.
Jason, I always wanted a brother. You, Lloyd and Tim are my brothers. We are each fortunate to have a sister, but none of us has a brother in our family- so we decided to make our own family. You created a world for me and I am better off for it. There is a space there now but it is not empty. I love you with my whole heart and I miss you. All of us do.
Peter Soule
“Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born” -Anais Nin
Click here
for photos
My younger daughter’s favorite Frog & Toad story is, at present, Christmas Eve. Toad, you will recall from your childhood, is the timid sluggard who would always prefer to stay under the covers or at least safely indoors. But the irrepressible Frog never fails to shake him out of his sloth and into the daylight to be his companion in his many adventures. The conceit is powerful not because some of us are naturally Toads and others Frogs, but because we all of us seek to project the image of Frog outwardly to the world and hide within the fears and selfdoubts of our Toadness. Jason was my Frog since our first meeting at Oxford those many years ago, not complacent in the intellectual and material gifts life had given him, but using them for their purpose, which is to share with others. Within three months of our meeting he had moved in with my parents and youngest brother in Washington and quickly became a fixture through the summers in the family house in Edgartown. Life paths often diverge, but we instead grew closer, socially, intellectually, commercially, and eventually even more so through our families. He prompted me into adventures when the cares of life and effort of mobilizing my wife and little girls seemed insurmountable, and they too cherished his joy for life and living, the flowers, the strawberries, the pies, the wines, the horses, the osprey, the beaches and boats, the dog, and Julie, with her dances to his Victrola, her piano, her Frog to his Toad. In Christmas Eve, which would be better named Eastertide, Toad has cooked a big dinner and becomes increasing worried as the time passes and Frog does not arrive. Perhaps Frog has fallen into a deep hole, or is lost in the woods, or is being chased by a sharp-toothed animal: “My friend and I will never have another Christmas together!” Frog does arrive safe and unharmed, of course, to teach child readers faith that their parents though they be absent will always return to them. But as we grow and put childish things away and become parents ourselves, we learn that outside the storybook Frog does not always return, and we must accept that with Jason we will never have another Christmas together. Yet we have Julie and their daughter, and we must have faith, as all civilized men have and do, that we shall see him again at the last Easter, irrepressible: I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die. By Daniel Oliver
Hi Julie, I am so sorry for your loss. It comes as a shock to hear this news. Please know that Jason, you and Olivia will remain in my thoughts and prayers. Jason had an energy to him that was instantly contagious. His passion for everything he did was inspiring and he was a true leader (both while at Hamilton and as an alum). Jason contributed in so many ways to the Hamilton Rowing Team, empowering it to grow into the program it is today. I was the coxswain of the NCAA crew, and I can tell you that he will always be a part of that year's story. To hear him speak about our program and to feel his enthusiasm pushed us to go faster than we ever thought possible. I remember meeting him for the first time, and hearing his stories about the early days of the program. He helped me to realize that I was a part of something bigger than myself, and recognize the history we were making. In talking today with a few other teammates, it is clear that Jason helped each of us to become better teammates and better people. His presence will be deeply missed, but we will honor his legacy by continuing the work he started. Please let me know if there's anything I (or the Friends of Hamilton Rowing) can do. Our team has always been somewhat of a family to each other, and we will always be here to offer support. Hugs, prayers and best wishes, Heather Heather Piekarz '16
How do you ever say goodbye to a life as bright and vibrant as Jason’s? Jason had a spark and an energy he carried into every project, every person, every moment. I first met Jason in 2010 as a guest to his and Julie’s 4th of July extravaganza. Almost immediately I felt like they were old friends – probably a combination of their warmth and humor, plus our shared love of obsessive 4th of July party planning. I’ll never forget his patriotic country music playlists, trips to the Dollar General store to buy excessive decorations, his ridiculous amounts of time spent manning the grill, his dramatic raising of the American flag, and Jason and Julie enthusiastically encouraging my own antics, such as American flag fruit pizza and homemade ice cream. There was never any such thing as “too much” or “over the top.” Just joy upon joy upon joy. Getting back in touch with Jason and Julie in recent years was an absolute blessing. Their love for one another seemed even stronger, even more joyful. Their creative party planning skills had translated into creative beach house decorating skills, and sail boating skills, and boat renovation skills. Late nights singing and dancing, early mornings blasting through projects. It was an energy I could never fully match, but that I absorbed as much as I could. I am chronically late for the airport, as I try to pack too much in and lose track of time, but I had nothing on Jason. He had to get me out on the mountain bike and the kayak, both, the morning that I was going to depart, as those were my two outstanding activities. Always a little more fun to cram in. With all of our laughter, activities, and wine, we also managed to have serious conversations – we all shared a similar worldview, and seemed to easily share our hearts. I know how much they wanted to grow their family, and how excited they were for little Olivia’s arrival into the world. How do you say goodbye to a life like Jason’s? We never can, of course – we have to carry his light and his energy as best we can, and most importantly, we have to do all we can to pass it on to Olivia. click here for photos
Dear Julie, Amelia and I were so sorry to receive your tragic news about Jason. We feel your pain and Stathis’s and pray you and your dear family. Amelia spoke to Stathis this morning, and you both have been on our minds, and in our prayers, all day. Here is something I penned about Jason, and I hope it adds to fond remembrances tomorrow. Jason was a fine young man, who was a pleasure to know and set a fine example as a son and partner in business to his father, Stathis, and as the head of his own family with his lovely Julie. His leadership and contributions to land preservation through the Lamington Corridor Conservancy is an important legacy. We will miss Jason for his affability, and the enthusiasm he generously shared regarding his many interests. Amelia sends her love with mine, Larry Ross
Some of the great memories that come to mind when I think of my time with Jason... *Jason’s love of the primaries in New Hampshire, collecting signs and stopping at campaign offices. *Skiing with Jason in NH and the chairlift rides. I was always in awe at how he could speak so intelligently on so many subjects. *How Jason loved to entertain on his boat. Sunset cruises where you’d wish the sun never went down so the fun could continue. *His love of History. Things that most people would like on a superficial level Jason really dug into and learned the story behind it. *Jason’s love of antiques, antique furniture, grandfather clocks, JG pewter. He had a true appreciation for craftsmanship. *Jason’s excitement when introducing me or anyone to something new. His face would light up when he was sharing one of his passions. -Matthew McLaughlin
Dear Julie, I am so profoundly sad and so terribly sorry for your loss. It is indeed hard to fathom at this time. Jason was an incredible friend to me and to all of us at True Ventures. Though we had met previously around Summit, my first True meeting with him was in the fall of 2005. Since this first meeting, Jason had the vision to inspire and encourage us to take the bold steps to start our own firm. He was a constant companion with us on the early journey, and he encouraged me and my group in ways big and small, both personally and professionally. Jason always cared so deeply about our work and our team, and his sensitivity and focus were characteristics that I admired in him. Over the years with our success he continued to be an important voice of support for us. I would regularly have long phone calls to catch him up on our news and our progress. I enjoyed these discussions, and I can’t remember one major move we made (a big exit, a new fund, a new person on the team) that didn’t have his support and thinking. I would regularly visit him in New York, for a quick coffee, a casual lunch, and it was always time I looked forward to. Jason was a core part of the founding of our firm, and without his belief in us and his support, we would not be here. He was so proud of his family, from the respect and adoration he had for Stathis to the joy of your marriage and the arrival of baby Olivia. When we last spoke he laughed and giggled with joy about her arrival. Jason was a loyal friend to me. He was caring and kind, and he always made time to connect and support me in life and in business. I looked forward to us “growing old together” in the ways that Stathis and the Summit founders developed such deep family ties over the years. I will miss his smile, his partnership, his support and his thinking terribly. I will also bring forward his memory and legacy to those around me, and inside of True we will remember the importance of Jason’s conviction and support over these many years. Please let us know if there is any way for us to appropriately honor Jason. I wish you and your family peace in these times. My family’s thoughts and prayers are with you during these difficult moments. With deepest sympathies, Jon Callaghan
Julie, My heart breaks for you and your family. I am so sorry to hear of Jason's passing. You probably do not remember me, but I met you once at a Union Club event in Manhattan when you and Jason were first dating. You two seemed so happy together. I was thrilled to hear of the arrival of Olivia - Jason was so excited to meet her. While he graduated from Hamilton several years before me, Jason and I have stayed in touch thru our love of Hamilton and rowing since we first met in the Fall of 1999 when I was a freshman. His energy toward the program and the college was limitless. After I graduated, Jason and I emailed each other about the team on and off for several years until dropping off around 2009 as the team stagnated. By chance, I attended the NCAA regatta in 2015, and emailed the coach afterward to wish him congratulations, that i'd been there, etc. Shortly after that, I received an excited email from Jason telling me that he had also been there and wanted help re-starting the Friends of Hamilton Rowing. I immediately accepted his invitation to get involved with the Friends. In the three years since, I cannot tell you how much I enjoyed my interactions with Jason - we have shared many an excited phone call, text message, and also dinner in San Francisco. His enthusiasm was contagious. You should know that Jason started something wonderful with the Friends - thru his vision, we have built a solid foundation upon which our rowing alumni can support the Hamilton Rowing teams in a much more meaningful way than ever before. One of Jason's legacies will be the positive impact the Friends will have on the lives and athletic careers of Hamilton rowers going forward. Please let me know if there is anything I can do to help you during this terrible time. Sending strength, prayers, and positive energy. Steven Larson
Jason, my friend, we met in Switzerland back in 2016. I sat by you at the first dinner of our trip. I remember that you, Art Linares, and I were sort of trying to tip toe around some issues to figure out where each other stood ideologically. I think we used some ill-advised preconceived notions. I think I judged you for being a New Englander—you obviously had to be a liberal (Ha!). And I was a female—so I had to have voted for Hillary, right? Then we all realized we were conservatives—and the friendship and chatter never stopped for the next 7 days. I think we both made many good friends on the trip, but I knew there were probably only a few with whom I’d really keep in touch—you were one. You were just fun to be around and talk politics with. I cracked a joke one night about not really seeing the mystique of Martha’s Vineyard when I visited several years back. That was devastating for you to hear, and you immediately took on the challenge of making sure I changed my mind. A couple of months later, we met up again at the presidential inauguration in DC. It was the first time I got to meet your lovely wife, Julie, at Georgia Brown’s. She was just as warm and welcoming as you, and I couldn’t wait to spend more time with both of you the following summer. In July of last year, you finally got your opportunity to change my mind about Martha’s Vineyard. I spent three days with you, Julie, and several friends on Chappaquiddick. You were the most gracious hosts, and it’s a time I will always cherish. Thanks for showing this south Louisiana Cajun how Northeasterners do it. It’s tough for me to reconcile the fact that it’s the last time I will ever see you. I looked forward to many more random visits like these. I enjoyed the occasional texts and emails we shared the last few months just catching each other up on life. I especially enjoyed the Christmas card and announcement of Olivia. I have a box addressed to you and Julie on my kitchen table with various Louisiana things and something for Olivia. I hadn’t been able to get to FedEx to send it yet. In life we make various friends and acquaintances, but I’ve heard you can typically tell in the first 3 minutes if you want to be friends with someone. I knew the first time we met that you were someone who knew how to be a good friend. I appreciated that about you, and though, we only spent a short time together in person, I’ll miss your friendship. Rest easy, my friend, and may God’s peace and comfort be on your family. -Julie Emerson
I was overcome with a terrible sadness when I learned Jason had passed away. Not only because he had so much to live for in his wife, Julie, and baby daughter, Olivia, but also for the wide ranging and deep relationships Jason nurtured and developed during his time with us. As a Managing Director with VIA, my interactions with Jason took place mostly in the workplace over the last 5 years. Being based in Houston, I did not work side-by-side with Jason on a daily basis, but had the opportunity on numerous occasions to visit Peapack. When those visits occurred in the spring or early summer, we’d often find time to buy lunch and head out to the nearby Natirar Nature Preserve to discuss investment opportunities, the market outlook, or how we might approach various potential limited partners for our funds. Along with these business matters, Jason always took the time to appreciate the beauty of the park, and was kind enough to share what he knew about the local flora and fauna that was unfamiliar to me. His comments seemed to suggest he had a larger awareness of world around him that transcended the commonplace observations of most people I’ve known, and tried to share those perspectives at these informal lunch gatherings. A couple of years ago, Jason and I were in Dallas to visit a few candidate managers VIA was considering for our funds. Since we’d scheduled the meetings to begin in the late morning, we had several hours of free time, and Jason arranged for us to make an impromptu visit to an art gallery where one of Julie’s college roommates worked. In addition to Julie’s personal connection to one of the staff, this particular gallery was trying to sell as small painting depicting rolling sun-burnt hills in California’s Napa Valley, and Jason was very interested in viewing the artwork. Jason and I spent some time looking at the painting during which time he outlined the background of the artist -- whose name I cannot recall – and took the time to share that the most important feature was artist’s ability to capture the true glow of those California hills at sunset. Other artists, Jason noted, tried to capture that glow but usually could not measure up. Jason went up to the painting – very close – and seemed to look “into” the painting quietly for a few minutes, concentrating intently on the picture. It seemed to me then (and even on reflection now) that Jason was a very deep, thoughtful person that I could learn from in the coming years. I’ll close by saying that Jason was my friend and colleague, and will missed. My wife, Elizabeth, also passes on her condolences and prayers for Julie and Olivia, as well as Stathis and Stacey. May Jason rest in peace today and always. Adrian Garcia Managing Director, VIA
Julie, I'm having quite a tough time hearing this news. I've been in tears all morning, but don't worry, I have a box of tissues nearby. It's messy crying, like red in the face, nose running and everything. I don't even know if I should be emailing you back at this point. I don't know if any words I could share with you would help. I got back last night from our church's annual meeting in Boston, where the Christian Science headquarters are located, called the Mother Church. I felt so strengthened by the meetings we had, including a hymn sing Saturday evening which I really wanted to attend. It was a huge rally for me to get myself up there this weekend, but I'm so glad I did. I'm remembering all the fun we had together. Some country concerts, the Hillsboro vacation last spring, dancing at the Union Club parties together, the Philharmonic benefits, where at the most recent one, Jason somehow didn't realize it was black tie and went all the way home to change before coming back, a few East Side Mix late nights, the Tokeneke dinner, boat ride and day spent together, the list goes on. It's hard for me to think my last conversation with Jason was at your baby shower. I was planning to check in with you guys this week or next to see if you'd be going to the Union Club party next week, but knew that the chances of that were slim given the new little one, Olivia. Keith and I are very private about lots of things, but if there were ever anyone I needed to confide in or talk to, you guys would be among the people that would come to mind. I'm attaching three articles from our Christian Science publications, one called "The Passing of the Sea Gull," second called "The Fullness of Joy," the third called "Undisturbed." I'm sending them with the understanding that you might not feel like reading them, please don't if it doesn't feel like that would help right now. The third one, "Undisturbed," might not hit exactly the right note right now, but I'm sending along. I have your baby shower invite and beautiful Christmas card still among my papers that are floating around in my "to do" piles because of the address to send the second part of a baby gift. Julie, if there's anything I can do, in any way, please let me know. I'd be happy to babysit if needed. Errands, whatever. I'm always here for you if you need me. I'd walk a thousand miles and back again if you needed me to. I'm not necessarily feeling like any of this is worthy of being included with anything that is included with him as you lay him to rest, but wanted to share this with you. I lost my father and mother way too early in life, and so I understand a small part of what you must be going through. I'm cc'ing Keith as well. If you ever want to talk on the phone, let me know. I'm thinking of you, dear, sweet, simply Julie, and sending my prayers and love, Amy Conner The Passing of the Sea Gull The Fullness of Joy Undisturbed