I can still hear her voice. I miss her and the family. I think of them every day and every night. I’m still at a loss to reconcile this whole tragedy.

Twenty-some years together too big to think, its the small things, the moments, and sometimes, literally, the little things they came with—like the shells on the mantle, the delicate remains of a sea urchin, the fascination you share with Po as he peers into your palm, engulfed in the wonder of a tiny little star fish. That same passion, the gentle way Luke and Ryan take Po by the hand to show him some wonder of the world, and all just to share with him the joy, looking up to see it on his face.

Its the whimsical little fairy star that smiles up at me from the pillows on the bed, one that came with the many things of caring and comfort you bring on the day I give birth, the soothing tones of your voices in the other room, you and Claire on that night with you she’ll always remember, releasing me to let go in giving birth to Po. And on down the trail of memories, many years before that, your wordless greeting when I returned from a year far away–suddenly you are gone and he is in my arms, just me and Luke, out on the driveway in the morning sun, feeling his soft hair against my cheek, his warmth, quiet contentment, his same peaceful spirit of watchful amusement, surely the same one with which you turn back to watch me, just to see the joy on my face.

Its the mail on the table, the many causes you cared about and the way you gave. Day after day the mail keeps coming, piling up, wondering where you are. You are deeply missed as we remember you today, as always, and celebrate having you in our lives.

Her students loved her. She treated them with kindness and respect. I learned from her too. I observed her as she walked her class down the hallway saying please and thank you as she reminded students to walk or be quiet. It seems like a little thing, but to a child being told, “Please walk” and “Thank you” is a form of respect not show when a teacher shouts out, “Walk!”

When pregnant with Luke, she planned to take 3 month maternity leave. However she never came back. But she didn’t really quit teaching. As a mother and scuba instructor and later, a parent volunteering in her children’s classroom, she continued teaching and touching people’s lives. She was a great scuba instructor, and know because I took a class from her.

DeDe was an incredible mother; patient, kind, tuned in to her children’s needs. She spent quality time with her boys and gave them many incredible experiences. She was infinitely patient. When they were little she’d take all their “why” questions seriously and take the time to explain their world to them. I spent a lot of time with them and took care of Luke and Ryan, and was amazed at her love and patience. I remember sitting in a van in Costa Rica listening to DeDe and 2 year old Luke talking about the things they saw outside the van. I knew she was tired, I know I was, but she patiently answered all his questions. I had taken a class with DeDe and Luke at Sutter for siblings who would be attending the birth. They had prepared him so well, his first comment was ,with a disappointed voice, “I thought there would be more blood.”

Dede touched so many lives. She was an amazing person, and I feel privileged and lucky to have had her for a friend, and to have had Luke and Ryan in my life. I miss her very much and not a day goes by that I don’t think about her or her family.