Personal Reflection
Melissa Weiksnar
Thank you all for being here. Your love, faith, friendship and support are what's getting us through this unfathomable time. Amy was confirmed here at St. Irene's, and in my fantasy, her next sacrament here would have been her wedding, with all of us here celebrating. Yes, it would have been a large wedding. Who ever would have imagined that her father would be walking her down the aisle this way, to celebrate her short life?
On September 9th, 1990, when Amy was 19 months old, I wrote a poem about her, inspired by our visits to the fitness cluster on Church Street.
"Teeter Totter! Teeter Totter"
Claps my effervescent daughter.
Unadulterated laughter,
Knowing what we're going after.
Such an impish little creature,
I, her humble, honored teacher.
ON she went: she fell, I caught HER
wonder
what I
really
taught her?
Oh Amy, you were effervescent all your life! Monette, your best friend from England when we lived there from 1996-1998, left us this message:
"I'll always remember Amy as a smart, beautiful, caring young lady and I'll always be proud to be her friend, and know that whether she knew anyone for five minutes or five years that she most definitely touched their heart."
And Amy had a heart. In 1999, she, Philip and I went to adopt two kittens in time for Evelyn's return from England. We wanted one female, thus Isis. Raven attached himself to Philip, so he was coming home. But then Amy saw "the shy one" huddled in the back of the cage. She was afraid no one would adopt him. That's how we ended up with Webster. And she beat me to being the first of us to welcome River.
Amy WAS an imp, which according to Webster (the dictionary, not the cat) is a small demon or a mischievous child. She had a mind of her own, starting as a toddler. She had qualities that we said would make her a fantastic adult, but made parenting her very challenging. I think of the 20 degree day we attended the New England Conservatory Petting zoo, and she refused to wear her purple cloud jacket because it had M&M stains. Crossing the city streets, strangers were looking at us as if we were child abusers. I recall the tantrum she threw at Lechmere because we wouldn't buy her a teeny tiny food machine to make teeny tiny cookies. I remember grocery shopping at Demoulas on Treble Cove, back when they had the star cutouts above the breads, and we'd sing "Twinkle Twinkle" -- and one day she had to be carried out under the arm of the manager (Bill Flanagan) for yet another tantrum.
Into her teens, she rode the teeter totter of the best of Amy, and the worst of Amy. She had some of the most beautiful, loyal friends. But she also had "friends" she never had us meet, the ones who dragged her down.
Within minutes of her home birth in Carlisle, I called her "barracuda" for her ravenous love of food. Amy readily admitted to her food cravings, be they the chocolate raspberry brownies from Panera, or the warmed up sesame bagel with cream cheese from Ferns. And don't forget the iced coffee. But over the last six years, her drug cravings morphed into the big demon addiction, and she was very, very ill.
But on the teeter totter, few knew, because she continued to perform so well and charm us, until in mid November she admitted she could no longer live both lives and asked to go to detox. For almost 6 years, she was able to hide the extent of her disease from physical and mental health professionals, teachers and principals with decades of experience, and from those closest to her who truly loved her.
The line: "On she went, she fell, I caught her." At least I thought I did, getting her into a treatment program. I think back to when she admitted to her 9th grade English teacher, Sr. Marie Paula, "you know how sneaky I can be." The drugs she snuck into Emerson house last Friday killed her on Saturday. Her favorite movie was "catch me if you can." Last Saturday, death caught her. Amy's Intelligence, Beauty, and Charm were powerless against the overdose.
The line: "Wonder what I really taught her?" We loved to bake, to travel, to run. We loved each other. But the disease of addiction sabotages love of self. Yet who would have guessed from her Christmas card to us:
My dearest family,
This Christmas season has been unlike past holidays and unfortunately this means I wasn't able to acquire gifts for you. I wish the circumstances were different but, as you all know, I'm working hard to improve the most important thing of all: my health. Though I have nothing material to give, I can promise to bring my love, my gratitude and (or course) my sobriety. I look forward to the time I'll be spending with you over Christmas and will surely treasure each moment we share as a family.
Thanks for all you love and support throughout these last few months. It's meant the world to me.
I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!
XOXO
Amy
As tragic as her death is, I take comfort in knowing that she is now forever safe with God, her excruciating pain is over, and her loving spirit has changed us, and will be with us, forever. But boy will we ever miss her!