Eulogy for Sam Carter
By: K Rudolph • October 25, 2019
K Rudolph
A published author and an experienced editor and document designer, K's mission is to help authors do great work.
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Celebration of Life: Samuel Filson Carter, III October 30, 1952–October 7, 2019
Sam,
Today is our chance to say thank you for the way you brightened our lives.
Life without you is difficult. We can not run to you for advice and seek comfort from you, and that is a terrible blow—to me, and to your family and friends.
We feel cheated that you were taken from us so young; and yet we are so, so, so very grateful that you came along at all.
It’s as if God said, “I'm going to make you an offer. I’ll give you a brilliant, kind, handsome, wonderful, fun, and lovable man for 66 years... but then it will be time for him to come home.”
...
I only had 22 years of Sam, but I would make that deal in a heartbeat.
Our meeting and our relationship changed my life for the better. Knowing Sam made me a better person.
It makes me happy to know that in his last years he had such a wonderful life—near the water, surrounded by friends. He had meaningful work and meaningful relationships. And it doesn’t get any better than that. And I know how much he loved Debbie and Carol and Molly and Amanda. And how much they loved him. And how much he loved his friends. He was the greatest friend.
It’s been said that a great disaster is a sign for us to remember the big things of life and forget the small things.
So, here are a few of the big things:
- Sam had a zest for life and a love of adventure. He was the pied piper who brought us all along. He was overflowing with passion and genuinely curious about nearly everything and everyone. He made friends easily. And he was deep, and thoughtful, and wise. He was our coach, our cheerleader, and our most valuable player.
- Sam was not perfect. And that’s OK. Perfect would be boring, and that’s one thing Sam was not.
- Sam had a great time living, and he is no doubt now having the time of his life in Valhalla, heaven, or whatever afterlife he joined. The best we can hope for is to some day visit the place where he has gone.
If Sam were here, he might say, “Sometimes, there’s no way to make things better. There’s only making it through. I can’t make this not hurt; I can only let you know that you aren’t alone.” So, when we see something that makes us smile or laugh so hard that we double over and tears stream from our eyes; when we hear a song that lifts our heart; or when we find a new way to approach a difficult problem—that’s the time to think of Sam and to know that we’re not alone.
...
All our love, Sam. All our love.
