Eulogy

Kimberly Rosario Perez
1976-2006

Hello, I’m Kim’s brother.

My memories of my baby sister are different than most. At times, I believed the two of us were incredibly close, as bonded to one another as a brother and sister could possibly be. Then there were other times that both of us felt a deep, almost impenetrable, divide from one another, wondering if our lives would ever allow us to find a way to reconcile. Throughout the good and bad times, I have never lost my admiration, my pride and my love for the amazing woman Kim became. And believe me, she was amazing.

I remember Kim as a baby. Her childhood name was “Kimby”. “Kimby” was the baby girl, the only girl, the apple-of-my-father’s eye. She was as cute as a button. Everyone loved her. Everyone protected her. She was the center of attention. Being the baby girl was something that “Kimby” initially cherished, but it was a role that she eventually outgrew. “Kimby” was a role she could no longer play. During her middle school years, she began to gently, but resolutely, inform us that she was now to be called “Kim.” We all laughed at first, but she eventually wore us down. She made her first stab at independence, her first step towards maturity.

I remember Kim as a teenager. For me, Kim’s teenaged years were marked by the death of her childhood friend Frances. She was deeply and profoundly affected by Frances’ passing. I was somewhat surprised when I brought the subject of Frances up to friends that knew Kim after high school. It seems that Kim only mentioned Frances briefly, in passing. But I was there. I saw how devastated Kim was by Frances’ death. I know the pain and struggle Kim went through in coming to terms with it, dealing with it. The fact that someone as open and honest as Kim, would be so silent about such an important subject, spoke volumes about how Frances’ death affected her.

Through her death, Frances taught Kim her most important lesson: that life is precious, that life is fragile. Life is to be experienced and enjoyed. Life was meant to make a difference. Frances’ lesson guided Kim throughout the rest of her life and travels. Frances was the foundation that underlayed my sister’s amazing life.

Collectively, as a family, we had a difficult time understanding why Kim felt so compelled to live the life she did. She would tell us stories of her travels. She would show us pictures of the many friends she made. But we were selfish. We wanted to see so much more of her. We wanted her home.

However, Kim’s thirst for life lead to her compassion for the lives of others, and finally brought her to action; to take that compassion and to use it to for the betterment of her fellow human beings. At the expense of stability, at the expense of settling down and raising a family, at the expense of her own safety, Kim found fulfillment. She found happiness.

The overwhelming number of condolences my family has received these past two weeks, the phone calls, emails and visits from all around the globe, has finally connected us to the many lives that she’s touched, to all the good that’s she done. We understand now Kim. We get it. We are so proud of you.

As Kim used Frances’ death to spark her own life’s journey, it is important that we transform the shock and grief of Kim’s passing into something positive. Something lasting. I believe that the best way to memorialize my sister, the best way to honor her memory is to do something a little brave. Do something a little foolhardy. Do something a little unpredictable. Do something a little fragile. Do something a little amazing.

Do something that Kim would do.

"I would apologize,
If I could see your eyes.
Because when you showed me myself
I became someone else.
But I was caught in between
all you wished for and all you need.
Maybe you're not even sure what it's for,
anymore than me.

May God's love be with you."