As promised, below is our eulogy which Rabbi Wylen read on our behalf last Tuesday.Stickers made everything better for Sylvie. She obsessively collected them. She held people ransom for them. She exploded with joy at the sight of them. She was motivated by them. She spent hours upon hours thinking about them, begging to go shopping for them, trying to sneak them into school, obsessing in the store about them, carrying them around, shaking down her doctors and nurses for them, making us stuff our pockets with them, sleeping with them. Every now and then, if we were lucky, she’d share one with us. Or you. They made her incredibly happy. She would LOVE knowing that each and every one of you was wearing a sticker and would probably want to apply them entirely by herself. Thank you for indulging us by wearing stickers.
Sylvie was a gift from heaven that was sent to help us and teach us for 3.5 years. She was not just beautiful. She was extraordinarily beautiful. She was not just special. She was extraordinarily special. She was radiant, glittery both spiritually and physically. Sylvie saw magic and wonder in absolutely everything. Her intuition was remarkable and sometimes a little frightening. Her emotions and expressions were exponentially bigger than her petite size. And Sylvie’s voice was certainly that of an angel. She was earth, fire, air and water all wrapped up in one pint-sized package. It goes without saying that her strength was greater than ours or yours. Losing her feels like we have been robbed of everything at one time.. It is unfair, unjust and clearly too soon although friends have suggested to us that Sylvie was called back because she had her next special assignment. As Rabbi Wylen said Sylvie was a supernova.
Perhaps Sylvie’s love for all things make-believe was a way for her to cope with feeling ill and her own way of being positive. We joke that her best friend Samantha ‘lit the match’ by forcing Sylvie to wear her then too-big Jasmine nightgowns and tiaras but that Sylvie (and we) ignited an entire universe of princesses, fairies and ponies. When we would go hiking, one of us would run ahead and hide stickers from the Sticker Fairy in the trees. Or the Garden Fairy would plant a sheet of princess stickers among the swiss chard. Or the Woodland Fairy hid a cornucopia of them beneath a shrub. We thought we blew it when the Blueberry Fairy ran out of stickers, in the rain, while we selfishly picked a pint of berries up at Sylvie’s favorite place, “Mountain House” in Vermont. She was motivated to walk again by both Hello Kitty stickers and Ponies courtesy of another best friend and physical therapist, Tracey. We had to buy bulk quantity of ponies on Ebay to have on hand as surprises, presents and rewards although Sylvie began asking if there were any ponies hiding in the washing machine where they were hidden.
Our home has always been filled with sound—laughter, music, pots clanging, pets playing—never a dull moment. As you can imagine, our life has instantly become very VERY quiet. The day Sylvie was born was the day we stopped really needing an alarm clock.
The pitter patter of little feet across the hardwood floors no later than 7 am, usually 5:55 though, followed by a surprise exclamation “Mommy, Wake up!” “Daddy, I woked up!” and often, “Is it light out? Are stores open” were just a few of the special phrases that are emblazoned in our hearts every single day.
Since Sylvie was an infant, music has been a central component in her life which was immediately obvious to anyone who had ever met Sylvie. She was always singing, converting words into song lyrics and dancing like a little maniac. It got her back on her feet during her treatment and recovery and we credited the personal attention showered upon Sylvie by her favorite kinder rock stars who went out of their way to make Sylvie feel like the biggest VIP at their concerts and she looked forward to showing them her latest dance moves, her ability to walk, run, perhaps a fancy party dress, Princess nightgown or toy. No trip in the car would be complete without Sylvie’s iPod mix and anyone who has experienced her screaming “I Hope My Mama Says Yes,” “Road Trip,” “Welcome Table,” or “Rocketship” knows what I’m talking about. Going to temple, whether for the high holidays or Tot Shabbat was such a joy for us. We all shed our inhibitions dancing, chasing and singing.
Sylvie was a magnetic little girl. Her personality—her sheer vocabulary!—lit up the room. Unless she didn’t want to be there, and trust me, if that was the case, she let you know. She made friends wherever she went and I think she really inspired people to celebrate and appreciate life a little more. She was magnetic. A leader. A friend.
Sylvie had the ability to build intense relationships and private moments with family and friends that each could call their own. Any trip with Sylvie, whether for a check up or to a restaurant was like her little political campaign trail. The shortest distance between to points may be a straight line, but for Sylvie, it included many stops along the way whether it was visiting a friend or two, earning a trip to the art store, the Hello Kitty Store, the merry-go-round, Princess Store or her new discovery, Target.
I woke up early, opened Sylvie’s closet doors. Spilling out were ballet shoes, red glitter shoes, leopard boots, butterfly wings, tiaras, sunglasses, coordinated hats & gloves & purses of course and princess dresses—and took out her favorite Sleeping Beauty Dress which Sylvie wore at every single moment. I held it. Buried my face in it. Inhaled it. Folded it. Repeated this process over and over hoping for some kind of cosmic acknowledgement that you were in the room with me. I was being shortsighted because, Sylvie you are everywhere.
SYLVIE: A friend assured us that you were called back to do some very important work and perhaps you were here so briefly with us to do the same. Our lives were completely enriched by your presence and completely & entirely empty and lost without you. We learned so much from you as you fought something as terrible as Stage IV liver and lung cancer and BEAT IT. You had to learn to do things so simple (or NOT) such as walking and eating again. You found joy in the smallest things and magic in EVERYTHING. You inspired us because you were stronger than us. You filled our hearts and minds with love so great that we felt like a helium balloon about to burst at any moment. Sylvie Rose Hughes, we love you more than the biggest number in the world times the biggest number in the world. To the moon and back again. And again. You have ALWAYS been with us every single second of every single day and our physical separation will not change that. One day we will meet again and hope you will have some sparkly stickers waiting for us. Come to think of it, we know you will.
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