A New Year: Part 1

2023 will mark ten years of writing on the internet.

To all the women my exes dated after me? You’re welcome for this vast, easy to find and sometimes embarrassing digital footprint of mine.

There have been twists and turns, but for the most part there has been relative consistency here on the old “Blog Bloom.” At least relative consistency in just having something to share.

I used to try to make sure I didn’t go a month without a blog. Since having kids and no true ambition to be a bonafide influencer, it’s gotten looser. But still, for the last ten years, writing has been a constant in my life.

Until this year, that is.

This year opened with a hardship that I have not even shared here yet. My younger brother died suddenly on January 27, 2022 due to pulmonary edema while working out in a pool. He was a collegiate swimmer and we all grew up swimming. The cause and abrupt finality of his death prompted so many immediate questions and emotions, and they still do; but, they seem so basic compared to the questions and emotions the rest of the year would bring as I saw my family change, my parents change, my sister and my kids and myself change.

Because of this, writing was tricky. This felt like a gapping wound and felt so wrong to write about. But also, when I would try to write about it or me living it, it didn’t make sense. Was I supposed to have learned something? Because all I could find were cliches that I already knew. Was I supposed to become more kind and empathic? Or realize that I wasn’t in fact all that special because hardships like this are plenty? (A quick note: this was maybe the darkest hole to fall into… Perhaps more on this unhealthy place someday.) Was I supposed to create and *DO* something? Or, was it all pointless?

When it came to writing (and many other tasks), I spent so much of the year confused and a little distracted. I have so many unfinished thoughts in my phone’s Notes App that I sometimes wonder if I should take the time to edit them. Maybe make them into poems?

But, also in my notes app are two finished pieces of writing I did complete this year. With the exception of my normal freelance articles for larger sites, these are the only finished “personal” essays I wrote all year:

• Danny’s eulogy, that I wrote with my sister in the early morning hours the day of his funeral, unhappy with our (many) previous attempts.
• And, a toast for my great friend Betsy, given at her wedding reception just four months later in mid-June.

I received great feedback for the delivery and content of both. A handful of my best friends even got to witness both. Adam sobbed his face off for both, but that doesn’t say that much about the content. Me with a microphone tends to turn him into a puddle. (That and any video of a soldier coming home, surprising loved ones. Just incase you were curious what was Adam Trost Kryptonite.)

But, what strikes me today is how different yet similar a toast and a eulogy can be. A eulogy gets a bad rep because of the sadness, of course. And, while I don’t love their circumstances, I really like eulogies. Even before the loss of my brother, I could be heard touting my love for eulogies and desire to eulogize one another more while we are alive. And, I suppose that is what toasts are for. And, that’s probably why I love good toasts, why I love giving them and why, for whatever reason, I don’t see them to be terribly different. At the end of the day, both are meant to celebrate, honor, remember and love.

In writing that sentence, it’s even more clear why I enjoy eulogies and toasts so much. Celebrate, honor, remember and love are actions that I try to bring to life in the art that is my writing, but also the art that is my life.

And, for the most part, let’s say relatively consistently, I get it right.

Not always. There are times that it’s harder.

This year was one of those years. But, even in the confusion, the grief that showed up like anger at times, I wrote these two pieces to celebrate, honor, remember and love. Just like I have done– with relative consistency– for ten years and plan to do– with relative consistency– for as many more years as I get.

A New Years gift to you: Here are the transcripts to both Dan’s eulogy and Betsy and Charbel’s Toast. Both have good messages of living big and loving well that I hope you can carry into 2023 and beyond. (Please ignore short hand, spelling and typos for these were truly Notes App creations… God bless the notes app.)

Daniel Sullivan’s Eulogy delivered February 11, 2022 alongside Kerry Sullivan Smith in Holland, Michigan

Kerry and I alternated speaking nearly every paragraph and it was well balanced, but also so good for both of us.

Claire: Hello, for those of you who don’t know us, we are Kerry and Claire, Danny’s older sisters. And on behalf of our family we want to welcome you all to western Michigan, an area that is so incredibly near and dear to our family. (Mainly for its summers. So, please come back!) A few quick thank you’s before we begin. Thank you to everyone who has put today together: our parents, who have shown such grace throughout this time; Danny’s friends, who rallied together to build this beautiful, musical service; Father Stephen, our childhood priest from St. Patrick’s in Dublin, Ohio, and Father Jay, our priest from All Saint’s in Saugatuck. We are so humbled to see so many people come together to honor Danny, thank you.

Kerry: And, most importantly, thank you to all of you for being here and for those joining virtually. Whether you’ve known Danny all his life, are a former teammate, classmate, choral member or friend, thank you for loving Danny.

Claire: This is a place we never thought we would be and it’s incredibly hard— especially as Danny’s older siblings and especially at this stage of our lives. These past few weeks, we have reflected on how many incredible memories we shared together. Danny was such a surprise and delight, breaking up our very girly existence 27 years ago with all things boy. He brought us from our world of barbies and American Girl Dolls to his world of trains, superheroes, light sabers, and videogames. We found out quickly just how much one person added to our family, and how easily our identities became linked together as we built our ‘roles’ within the family and out in the world.

Kerry:

Claire – the oldest – a responsible, nurturing, wise older sister

Kerry – the middle child – a fierce, slightly accident prone, academic & athlete

Danny – the little brother – a curious, inquisitive, shy but goofy boy

Claire: Growing with both a brother and a sister felt complete. It also felt like an identifying feature of who we were.

The night Danny died we noticed a hole in our family immediately. It feels so silly to say that, and we know that Danny will always be our brother, but right away our family felt so much smaller. 

Kerry: Even though Danny was our little brother, he was so big in our lives. He lived big: swimming and learning and fighting for what was right. Picking up his life and moving across the planet for love. He sang and strummed and danced so big. He had the biggest heart and loved us all so big.

Claire: As condolences rang out in the last two weeks, a clear common thread of Dan’s kindness was apparent. And, it’s so true, Danny’s kindness was pure, and was not an exaggeration. In our own reflections, we’ve found that what perhaps was most remarkable about Danny’s kindness is how he invited us into it and anchored us to kindness, too.

Kerry: Without Danny, we could have easily become two sisters who fought about clothes and who was on the computer. Okay, so we did fight about that. But, it never lasted that long or even got that far because we had Danny to balance us. When we were kids, we loved each other in the way brothers and sisters are ‘supposed’ to love each other, but at the end of the day, we really did like each other, too.

Claire: Some of our best memories from childhood are when we would escape to the basement during one of mom’s many parties, get out the Nintendo 64, and race across Koupa Troupa beach in Mario Kart. In that basement, Kerry and I could shed our need for responsibility, coolness, and achievement and just be us. Danny, who brought us into his worlds and invited us into his kindness, was just happy to be there. Playing with our little brother allowed us to find bigger versions of our own selves – where we didnt have to be defined by any label. And, ultimately, we were happy to be there, too. Together.

Kerry: Our parents also loved going out for date nights—and struck up a deal with Claire that if she stayed home and played babysitter one night of the weekend, she could use the other to go out with friends. In those Friday nights in together, the three of us split frozen pizza and made root beer floats, relaxing from a week of preteen performance.

Claire: We also remember the family vacations where we shared the adjoining room or huddled up together on the pull out couch; laughing together over weeknight ice cream and cable TV—specific vacation-only treats.

Kerry: As we grew into adulthood, the brother-sister-supposed-to-kind-of-love fell away into true love, respect, and friendship. Danny lived with Claire and Adam for an entire summer while he was in college. He visited Dennis and me in New York, getting to know our friends on the east coast. Any time we were together under one roof, which admittedly became less often as we all moved to our own corners of the world, we again were all just happy to be there. Together. 

Claire: Some of the best last memories we have together were our cocktail hour serenades, where Danny would bring out his guitar and bring us into another one of his worlds. He strummed along to Wagon Wheel, Blackbird, and Mumford and Sons as we sipped wine, sang along, and danced with my children. In those moments, it was no longer just the three of us, but all of us—the wonderful people we all chosen as life partners, our parents, and now, the next generation of us.

Kerry: As we reflect on these memories, we also mourn the future memories we had already created in our mind’s eye. We were so looking forward to more cocktail hour serenades and time planned together this coming summer. We are grieving a slideshow that still plays in our imagination of what our lives together should have looked like.

Claire: Danny’s life was only getting bigger and better. We loved who he was becoming. A man of conviction and kindness. We couldn’t wait to be a part of it.

We have created so many drafts of this eulogy. Wanting to tie it up with a bow. To give a lesson or a meaning to this all, but we can’t make sense of it all. As older sisters we want to say something that will fix it and make this okay, but we are not okay.

Kerry: As much as his presence added to our family, his absence feels bigger. We know something big is missing in all of us. But, now, we can only do what big sisters do best: boss you all around a little (but, thanks to Danny, in the most kind of ways). 

Live in kindness. Live big. Take up space. Allow for others to do the same. Encourage your people to live as big as they can. 

Claire: You may not notice it when they are here, but take it from us, the void of space they leave behind is vast and wide, and felt immediately when they are gone.

We’ll miss you so big, Danny.

Toast for Betsy and Charbel Harb delivered June 17, 2022 in Cabo San Luca, Mexico

Hello! I am Claire Trost Betsy’s longtime friend. Over our 17 year friendship, I have had great opportunity to meet many of you. And anytime i have met a friend or family member of Betsy and Charbel’s, I have walked away feeling so energized and happy. You all are a great group and a true reflection of who Betsy and Charbel are. It has been such fun getting to spend these last few days together. If, by the off chance, we have not been introduced yet, please come find me on the dance floor and say “hi!”

Betsy and I were linked long ago when fate and luck would have us born in such a time, to parents such as ours and to land us at Purdue in the fall of 2005 in not just the same dorm but also same sorority. Thanks to a passion for romcoms, reality tv, and subbing ice cream for dinner a fast friendship was formed. Though Late nights out and meaningful nights in we grew from teenagers into our post graduate selves and the fraternities turned into broad ripple and our first apartments.

This seem small, even a bit of a cliche of female friendship, but underneath the road trips, lunches at just about every Martha Hoover restaurant concept in Indianapolis, and many calls and texts a foundation was laid and that is how we got to today… older, with more patina of life than our original fresh faced versions; but still so close. In a place where introducing myself as Betsy’s “friend” sometimes feels like too small of a word.

Because our foundation is made up a deep love and knowing of one another that has persisted through the years, bringing us so many great gifts, and is something i pray will always continue. 

For It was that loving, knowing when Betsy recognized that a young Adam Trost just might be a great match for me and encouraged him to ask me to a dance. A loving knowing that has lead to us being the best, toughest mirrors we have ever needed to look into. A loving knowing that Betsy needed to be a first phone call the morning my world had stopped turning just a little over four months ago.

And a loving knowing, when I knew Charbel would be in our lives for forever.

It was May 2019 and Kelsey and Kyle Kasting invited us to join them for Zoobilation— the zoo’s annual fundraiser. It’s a fancy evening requiring a blow out, a gown and a night downtown at the JW. Betsy asked if she could come hangout in our room while we got ready— sure! And if she could bring the man she has been seeing. Sure!

That night, after a drink and some great conversation in our room, we headed down to the lobby where we would part ways for the evening. As we walked, Charbel pulled me back from our group— now including the Kasting’s and Katie Thomas Glick, also here tonight— and he took the moment to say “I have heard so much about you. You mean so much to Betsy and I cannot wait to get to know you more.”

It was simple and kind, but also massively profound.  Like the best kind of lightning. Because what he actually said in that simple statement was “I am listening to Betsy. I hear what she values and what she loves. And I want to know and love them, too.”

He didn’t just want to love Betsy. He wanted to know and love everything about her.

Here’s a thing about my great friend Betsy that likely many of you are aware of: she is very easy to love. She is human sunshine— kind, giving, open, fun and filled with joy. But to really get to know her takes work. But… It’s great work. 

That night it was clear: charbel was up for the task… in fact, he was already on the job. 

And I walked out onto the streets of Indianapolis buzzing on more than just the champagne.

Like so many of us, the last couple years have left me asking “What matters?” When so much does, but also so much just doesn’t. 

There is a lot of very good work being done in the world, yes. But the best I can gather  is that this might be be some of the best work we ever do. It might be the whole freaking point. To be known and loved, yes. But also to take a front row seat to someone else’s life (maybe even a many someone’s— if you are really lucky) and have the great opportunity to know and love every little bit of them. All the good and even the bad. To bear witness to the past, present and future versions of a person and know and love every single piece of them. 

Because, you see, you have to have both. To be known, but not loved is sounds scary, lonely and kind of terrible.

And to just have love on it’s own— even though it might even sound great at first— that loooove thing. But, love without being known? It’s soda pop. Sweet, but not fulfilling. All passion but no truth. It’s not even love at all.

We need both and, in order to get the full benefit of this great gift, we have to be willing to do the work really know and love someone in return.

Charbel, thank you for doing the great work of knowing and loving my amazing friend Betsy. I have been saving you a seat here in the front row for a long time and i cannot wait to get to know and love the future version of you: her husband.

To everyone here tonight in beautiful Cabo San Lucas, Being known and loved is my greatest wish for all of you. But, especially for you two as we toast your fantastic Union. May you always feel known and loved by this great crowd of family and friends, but most importantly by one another. Cheers to being known and loved. Cheers to you, betsy and Charbel.