A Eulogy for My Family, Killed in a Car Crash in Croatia

My family were killed in a car crash in Croatia. My husband, Matthew, was 40; and our daughter, Tegan, was 4. The driver of the car, our friend, - Sinisa - was in his 30’s and about to be married in a few weeks to Branka. They were driving in the early summer evening back from the coast to the city. Two men were racing their cars down to the coast and at speed crossed the double line around a blind corner. They forced Sinisa’s car off the road and into a cliff. Matthew, Tegan and Sinsia were killed on impact wit h the oncoming cars and their car exploded into flame. The racers sped away to saftey. But the life of Sinisa, Matthew and Tegan - as well as mine - ended at 5pm European time on 27 May 2006.

Matthew and I met when we were 22 and were engaged 6 weeks later. We were together 16 years. Tegan was born of a loving relationship 10 years on from our marriage. We were a team of three and did everything together. When they died a wonderful man lost his life, our gorgeous baby would never have the right to grow up; and I lost my identity, our life and reason for being.

This is their Eulogy:

This is for my two favorite people in the world, my life and my reason for being:

Matthew, ……you are my husband of nearly 14 years, my most intimate and best friend for much longer; and my soul mate who knew me better than I knew myself.

We could look at each other and laugh and know exactly what we were laughing about without words. We could talk straight for 24 hours and never tire of each other’s company and always seem to have something new to share.

As I often said to you (and I am so glad I said it), you are my hero. You made our world so much bigger than I ever thought possible and oh, so much better. You made every dream we shared come true. On our long walks you would squeeze my hand and say that we were only limited by our imagination and that as long as we were together everything was alright. And you were always right.

Every day, although I didn’t think it possible, I loved and admired you more. But this didn’t surprise you: you said ‘Of course – this is the way love should be.’ You were always so wise. My infallible guide and counsel in all things. And so patient to always listen and debrief and advise on the minutae of my every day.

And we had fun. Childlike and whimsical fun. Our passionate bickering over small things, our little competitions, our fanciful plans and schemes. Everything was a adventure: we would take off in the car in the very early morning on the weekends, buzzing with excitement – even if it was just to one of your Saturday auctions.

But you are so much more than just ‘you and I’.

What set you apart is that you lived for your hopes to be fulfilled, whereas most people live in the shaddow of their fears.

This made you brave. It made you a happy person, larger than life. You so rarely ever had a ‘down’ day. And it made you a success.

I was always facinated by your long list of things you wanted to do in your life time – and in awe that at 40 you only had one left unchecked - (“space travel” for those interested). How many of us could say that at only 40?

You excell at such a wide range of things: history and research, geography and travel, languages – picking up conversational german in 5 weeks, an unbelieveably canny investor, a well-rounded businessman with a gift for connecting people from all cultures and backgrounds, so well informed (driven by an insatiable curiousity about the world), a knack of always finding the best way to do things, and so organised and driven that you managed to pack into a morning what I would have planned over days.

You were so visionary getting out of the salaried ratrace in your ‘30s to follow your passions and make the most of your talents. And, after only a few years of hard graft, you had the foundations – making great money at what made you happy.

And despite being so busy in your start-up business, you still made Tegan and I feel as if our needs and time with us was your only priority. For ‘your girls’ – as you would call us, nothing was ever too expensive, too indulgent or too much trouble.

As a Dad, you are dedicated, loving and unfailing, always putting Tegan’s needs first. In every action you showed thoughtfulness – remembering all of her friend’s names, testing her reading and numbers at any opportunity, taking care of what you dressed her in. She is so lucky to have you as her Daddy.

But you always looked out for and cared for others – particularly your family and friends. When we married you told me that you would take on my brothers as your brothers. And like everything else you did, you swept up “the boys” in your bossy gusto, giving such thought and care to their lives as if it were your own.

I have never met anyone as pure of heart, who genuinely thought the best of everyone, and faced the world honestly, proudly and without pretence.

Matthew, you always said that you and I were a great team, and then the team became three. You’d shout as we left the house every morning “come on team – lets get on the road”.

And our little Tiggi-Tiger took her team role so seriously. So much so, that when we left her with a babysitter one evening, she cried with dismay: “…but what about the team?”.

Tegan,…..you make your Daddy and I so proud and so happy.

Even at 4 you are so bright, independent, and switched-on that we knew you were going to change the world. And you did – my world has changed forever, and every moment of my days will be lived with you….

Every morning will still be the event you made it. I will see you bounce out of bed with that curly top of hair, announcing “Ta da” to the house; and your Daddy and I come running with squeels of delight that another day has started with our girl.

Everytime I have my coffee, I will see you sitting beside me politely sipping your babychino and chirping into our conversation. So happy to just be with Mummy and Daddy. And such a good girl, because restaurants, airports, hotels, and even the matinee sessions in Covent garden were second nature to you.

Everytime I walk into a room I will not be able to help but hear hear the loud chorus of “Tegan, Tegan” from your friends as you arrived or left school. And smile at your Father’s early concern that many of the children mobbing you seemed to be boys. And the teachers and I all bemused as to why you alone seemed to get this cocophonous welcome and farewell.

Every day I will hear one of your profound and homespun philosopies on how the world works, that always seemed impossibly insightful for a 4 year old. So that when I asked, “Tegan, who told that?” - you would say - “Nobody Mama – I just S-inked about it all by myself.”

Everytime I do something silly, I shall hear your little voice exclaim “ What were you S-inking of, Mama?”. Everytime I lose concentration, I will feel your two little hands squeezing my face and hear the insistent “Mama – where are you!”! Everytime my fears grab me, I shall remember to be brave like a Tiger, just like you, my sweetyheart.

I will see you:
•picking out your best and biggest Easter Eggs to share with Mummy
•helping me with jobs, chattering all the way
•metering out your squeezy cuddles only when I had earned it
•drawing me a map so that we didn’t get lost going to the museum
•being so quiet and still when I was on the phone
•persisting at a task until you got it right
•enthusiastically asking to go to school – even on Christmas day

And as the evening draws on…I will hear your voice calling “Mama” from your room and then the whispered request: “Mama I’ll be as quiet as a mouse” – your entreaty to stay up longer.

And when I’m asleep, I will hear the little patter of your feet on the carpet, and then feel the jab of your elbows and knees as you crawl across me into bed carrying a menagerie of animals; who obviously gave you the courage to brave the dark corridor to mummy’s & daddy’s bed….

Tegan, as I always told you: you will always be my baby, no matter how big you grow, or how time moves on. You will always be mummy’s baby.

Well, my Matty-hew and my Tigs; whilst this might be the last ‘gig’ for the team, you will be with me my whole life, in every little moment of every day, until we can be together again….

All my love, my darlings, always.

Drs. Gloria and Heidi Respond

Dear Alison,

We are so very sorry for your loss. To lose a child is the hardest thing a parent ever has to do and lose your husband as well is such a heavy load to carry. 

The eulogy is beautiful and a lovely tribute to each of them. We have published it in its entirety on The Grief Blog because we believe it will bring comfort to many, many people who have lost loved ones.

We hope that you have been able to find comfort and someone to help you share this burden of grief with. We recommend The Compassionate Friends to many who contact The Grief Blog because each member has experienced the death of a child. Each has grieved or is grieving in his or her own way and time and its members reach out to comfort and help others whose grief is still fresh as is yours. They can be found at http://www.compassionatefriends.com.  If there is no chapter of Compassionate Friends in your area you may want to contact your local Hospice for a grief group recommendation.  However, we understand that groups are not for everyone.  If groups are not for you we recommend that you reach out to your family, church, and friends for support.  We have found that the load of grief is lighter when it is not carried alone

We invite you, too, to listen on Thursday mornings to the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart  You can find information about it and a link to it on the first page of http://www.thegriefblog.com  You might also find a number of past shows that can give you help and comfort at http://thegriefblog.com/grief-grieving-death-of-a-child/. On the show we often  refer to letters we have received on The Grief Blog and this coming Thursday we may refer to your letter and the eulogy.

We encourage you to continue writing. You express yourself so beautifully and we know that writing is a way you can facilitate your own healing.

Blessings,

Drs. Gloria and Heidi Horsley