Colin Doody

So here I am, in the very moment that I have feared for the last five months, and giving a talk that I have been terrified of delivering for the last five months.  And in these months I have been stewing over what I could possibly say to Reid -- to celebrate Reid’s life.  And while I felt pretty certain that I knew what I would say should the dreaded day come, now I don’t really need to talk about it anymore. Because this last Saturday before Reid passed away I got to tell him myself…something that I have wanted to confess to him even before we found out he had cancer two years ago.  I got to tell him just how much I looked up to him, and how much he really meant to me.

Typically, he wouldn’t let me say such things.  He wouldn’t let me get 'mushy' on him. But this last Saturday I stood by his bedside with family and friends and was privileged to tell him what he meant to me, and I honestly believe that this time he listened.  

I got to tell him about how in first grade, I cheated because I wanted to keep up with him in a 'reading journal' that we had to keep.  I told him how even though I would skip entire books he would somehow still be ahead of me.   

I told him about how I was probably the only person that envied those weird braces he had on his legs, and how one time I was absolutely thrilled when a cafeteria bench fell on my leg because I thought I would get to wear leg braces, too.  

I told him how in third grade Reid would carry a comb to class and a couple of times a day (always at the same times) he would go over to the sink and wet the comb (with hot water, of course) and comb his hair.  I tried, but it didn’t quite have the same effect on me.

I got to tell him how thrilled I was in eighth grade when on the first day of school I saw that he was in my English class with Ms. Wing.  I may not have told anyone this, but one of the reasons I pushed myself into honors programs over the course of high school was because I wanted to be in Reid's classes again.

I got to tell him these things and more, and for some reason because of that I feel like things are better. I feel better knowing that maybe Reid knows that he really was my hero , ever since I was little.

About two years ago, Reid, you left school for what I think what was a week to go swim at the National Swim Competition in Fort Lauderdale, FL.  I never told you this, but during that week that you were gone, I was completely lost. I didn’t know what to do with myself.  I didn’t have my buddy around school to tell me what to do.  

And now that you're gone, Reid, I fear you've left many people feeling a bit lost. But I know that its okay, because I know that everyone in this church is a better person because you were here, and that I am a better person because of you, and that I would rather be lost forever than not have your influence upon me. You really were a miracle to everyone.

And while I could go on and on about how great of a person you are, Reid, I think it would be best to spend a moment just to remember.  I refuse to let you become just a picture and a name in my mind.  That is why I urge everyone in this room to find a memory of Reid and to play it over and over in their heads so that it stays with them, and so that it stays fresh in their minds.  Let it be a memory that a picture can’t capture. Like the face and weird noises he makes when he tries to impersonate a cat. Or like the movements he makes when he tries to dance.  Or even just the sound of his laugh .

Reid, you've influenced me more than you'll ever know.  Thank you so much for being my friend. And I know that when I get first job you'll be there to congratulate me. And when I buy my first nice car on my own you'll be there to test drive it with me.  And when I get married, whenever that may be, I know that you'll be standing there right next to my best man.

I’ll miss you Reid.