Father’s Eulogy

I find it difficult to talk about Quinn’s life for a number of reasons. Because he was my son, because he was a younger brother like myself, because his life was cut tragically short. But mostly because talking about his life somehow implies his story is over. That we can only talk about him in past tense and his grace can no longer touch us, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. While Sarah and I were only able to hold, care, and advocate for our son for 20 short months, we will love him forever and he will always be in our hearts and minds. His affable demeanor, infectious laugh, and adventurous nature will forever inspire and motivate us.

Quinn came into this world one rainy summer day and we fell immediately in love. He was our constant companion always in the baby carrier strapped to our chests. We explored our new city together, hiked new trails, road tripped, ate lavash picnics, and stayed up late into the night identifying summer constellations. Our family of four loved life and we loved each other. Sarah nursed and snuggled our boy constantly. I took him for runs around Wash Park in the stroller. Ames hugged on him with so much love that he often lost his balance, and they would both tumble to the ground.

As Quinn got older and more capable, we quickly learned how adventurous our precious boy was. Soon he was crawling up and down the stairs with reckless abandon, running after Ames, jumping on his bed, and starting tickle fights with me. If we ever left the side door open, we would soon find him outside in the grass exploring some new part of the yard or scaling the dangerously tall slide on the playset I built for them.

Quinn got sick from time to time and we got worried. We tried to make him better so he could have a full life free from infections. We fought relentlessly to save our son. Unfortunately, Quinn got a lot of bad breaks. A few failed transplants and infections were too much for our son that fought so hard for so long.

The immense weight of this sadness makes us believe that we must have some profound realization. That the words in this eulogy must match the gravity of loss and tragedy. I do not believe this is the case. Epiphany is never as powerful as constantly learning. Words are nothing compared to actions. I know loving Quinny has made me a better father, a more loving husband, a more appreciative son and brother. Going through this tragedy with everyone here at our sides has made us realize how sacred family is. I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for your kindness and generosity.

For all of my days I will be looking for new lessons to learn from this. How to harness this loss and make something more positive, loving, and good. We are starting by establishing a memorial fund in Quinn’s name. We will be working with the City of Denver to help build a playground a that is safe for immunodeficient children in an underserved neighborhood. Your all’s kindness during this year has been nothing short of astounding. With you support we have been able to reestablish a firm footing as a family. We humbly ask that you turn that kindness to others to put more good into the world in Quinn’s honor.