April 27, 1983 - March 7, 2025
A Eulogy: Courage, Kindness and Love
Preface
I wrote this and delivered it at Miranda’s memorial service. It is a speech, so judge the writing accordingly. I’ve included some points within the post to clarify what I believe about Miranda’s suffering during the last few years of her life. Future posts will share portions of her story I wish to highlight. Links to those will be updated as they occur.
At the Podium
At the risk of offending someone, I am opening this with a joke that Miranda’s favorite son, Noah, shared with me just days before she left us:
“I told you I was sick!”
Man, she would have loved that joke, Noah and Mia. She WAS the sense of humor in our home when she was a kid. And she delighted in the fact that her children picked up that piece of her. Perfect timing and the wit of a razor. At around the age of five she informed us, “When I grow up, I want to be a lightbulb.” For her entire life, I was never sure if her sense of humor was so sophisticated at that age that she could pull off that level of comedy, or if her depth of metaphorical understanding already surpassed most people on the planet. Now, I believe both are true. Miranda Rose was a lightbulb in the world from the time she could walk and talk. Even in the darkest places on earth she shone brightly so others could see.
Sometimes, what we saw was hard to look at.
Two Distint Memories
Many of us have two distinct memories of Miranda Rose. There was the joyous, laughing, loving, tender Miranda with a superior sense of humor. The child who could eat eat Dad’s microwaved Cornish Hen that turned harder than driftwood, AND tell him how much she liked it. The young woman who, for a few years, believed the most hilarious thing of all was explaining the joke after she told it. The little girl who suffered Dad’s brave attempt at the layered haircut AND told him she loved it before running off to cry in private. The wonderfully insightful person who once told me how she recognized her tendency to dominate conversations with all of the wonderful ideas and recollections in her head, who tried hard to listen to other people only to be hijacked by some fascinating connection to their story that would trippingly take over and ruin the attempt.
I once told her, she was six or seven and had asked when we would visit the botanical gardens, and being the jokester I told her offhandedly that the botanical gardens had burned down—I mean who’s going to believe a place made almost entirely of water could burn? Well Miranda did. But she didn’t want me to think she was sad so she kept her broken heart to herself. Yes, we did go to the Botanical Gardens on the planned day. Yes, Dad did learn not to assume kids get the joke. But Miranda paid me back with two amazing surprises: As a teenager she conspired with her mother to take me on a drive to see the iconic Doc Watson in concert. As an adult, she secretly planned and executed a 50th birthday visit to see the world renowned James Taylor. That was Miranda, patiently waiting to turn a poorly timed joke into an opportunity to fully claim your heart.
Laughter and Heartbreak
I could stand here all day and tell these anecdotes. There are a million stories. A million jokes. Lots of laughter and heartbreak and struggle in her biography. You have your own memories of the beloved and glorious version of Miranda Rose. All of them put her in a supporting role so the rest of us can shine. Always a lightbulb to help us see.
A Dark and Deadly Cloud
Then a dark cloud crossed over her eight years ago. A minor auto accident propagated a torturous disease that rapidly consumed the beauty and brightness of Miranda Rose. It stole the light we’d all grown used to seeing by. When a person has a disease like CRPS—a constant, unpredictable, relentless, ravaging disease—everyone in their life is afflicted right along with them. Miranda’s disease forced her into a bubble of pain and isolation for eight long years. None of those around her could make sense of it. Most had to deny it or run away. Don’t beat yourself up. That’s the nature of a disease like CRPS—it confounds and manipulates and steals the best parts, leaving the dregs, the dross, the flotsam. It’s a Beast of the first order that fools onlookers into believing the afflicted person is simply exaggerating their pain. They can function for minutes, hours or even days, before the Beast takes another huge bite that topples them to the ground for an indeterminate time period. This is what Miranda went through, what we all went through with her.
With A Sliver Lining
But if you were lucky enough to spend time with her through the course those painful years, occasionally you would experience the abundant beauty and genuine presence of Miranda Rose as she bravely pushed her strong presence outside the membrane of that bubble… for a few minutes, a few hours, or sometimes even an entire week. During those precious intervals, you couldn’t help but be engulfed by the kindness and compassion and joy of her—a blazing lightbulb MEANT to fill you with hope. Because for Miranda Rose, outside of that overly protective bubble of CRPS, it was all about YOU.
Grace and Forgiveness
Miranda was the epitome of gracious and forgiving. She made it her life’s purpose to understand others, to allow them the room then needed to exist as they are. Certainly, she wanted the people who were hurting, or who hurt her or hurt others she cared about, to improve and be better. But she never pushed her ideas of better onto them. She never tried to MAKE you change. She created space for positive growth and waited. She nurtured and encouraged the best in others. She did it for me to an impossible degree. I know she did it for you. She couldn’t help herself. That was who she was on planet earth. I hope you had a chance to experience that part of her, to grow into a better version of yourself because of who Miranda was inside of that life-sucking bubble.
Like a Boss
She loved her children like a boss. Let me tell you, if I or her mother stepped out of Miranda’s comfort zone while we were attempting to help discipline or guide either Noah or Mia, the wrath of a Momma Bear would unleash. She didn’t always claim to be right, but by God she was clear—treat my kids with kindness and respect! That human lightbulb became a 1,000,000 candlepower spotlight on the perceived offender. It blinded me with its intensity, AND it made me a better father, grandfather and person. And I’ll be eternally grateful.
Mommy’s Boy
Noah, I hear her with you, even now, talking you through tough problems with life, with homework, encouraging you to believe in yourself and trust your inner voice. She loved your creativity and your sense of humor. But most of all, she bragged to anyone who would listen about your sensitive side and how you thought of others before yourself. That is so Mommy. Be proud that you are hers forever and always.
Mommy’s Baby
Mia, she cherished those times with you being there together, whether you were shopping for the best matcha or resting on her bed away from the worries of the world. She spoke with great pride about your strong spirit and willingness to confront the demands of the world on your terms. You have her courage and strength and you express it in ways she always wanted to, but found difficult because of her personality. Be that part of her for the world.
Deeper and Wider than the Oceans
Noah and Mia, I know without question that Mommy loves you deeper and wider than all the oceans of the world. People sometimes say things like “she lives on in your heart.” It’s a weird thing that doesn’t always make sense and it might not help you feel like they understand what you’re going through. What is true about that saying is that every minute you shared with Mommy remains with you, in your memories and in your emotions and in your character, and those will be yours forever. Even when they sometimes get stuck deep inside and you can’t recall them, they are there. I believe when you really need those memories and emotions that you had with Mommy, they will come back to your mind and heart. Take time to sit with them and be with her in your mind while they are fresh. It hurts, but it’s a good hurt because Mommy is there to share it with you. You need to know that she fought as hard and long as she could to stay with you and love you in person—longer than humanly possible I think. Her body was completely worn out from her disease. Because of that, we know she fought the dragon of death like a true hero, holding on to be with you in this life as long as she possibly could.
Carry her with you wherever you go….
Level Up
Our daughter, your mother, your confidante, your friend, Miranda Rose, leveled up. She fought the final Boss Fight on Planet Earth. Like a true warrior, as long and hard as any Marvel or DC Heroine, she fought with more courage and bravery than I believed anyone was capable of. Day after day, night after night, with only the briefest moments of respite, she fought against the pain. I truly believe her Spirit kept her fighting, until her body could no longer bear the wounds of battle. She was, and is, a true Hero. I could not be prouder.
We were all so blessed—are so blessed—to have experienced the lightbulb personality of Miranda Rose. The bubble of CRPS is gone and it leaves us with pure Miranda. She’s the best.
Wow Mark what a personal loss to write about. As I write this comment tears are welling up in my eyes. Loss is a terrible thing to go thru. I have two grown kids myself and each have kids that I am very attached to, your grief shows me what kind of father you are. Don’t second guess yourself Marc, you were her hero.