Adrienne's Eulogy

Alexis was my adoring little sister from the time she was an infant, and remained that way all of her life. Just last Thursday I spoke with Alexis on Skype, for what would be the last time. I was in the midst of law school exams and I had unwashed, unkempt finals hair. Alexis immediately said “hair down today” and took out her brushed ponytail to look just like me. I have been so blessed in this life.

We had the best kind of sisterly relationship: open, honest, loving. With Alexis, there was never a hidden agenda. No need to second guess what she meant. One Thanksgiving in 2005 when, while carrying a hot pot, I asked her to get out of the way in a too-harsh tone. Her response? She went outside and spit on my most prized possession, my still newly-precious Saturn. Even her revenge was guileless.

Alexis had no filter. If she was happy, you knew it – she was teasing you and laughing her big belly laugh. If she was annoyed by your loud sneeze, you knew it – she was shouting an irritated “BLESS YOU.”  She talked about her tummy roll as her watermelon. She was hilarious and unembarrassed. We had so much fun together – whether we were hanging out in my room as I got ready for church, or a party – or belting out the chorus of Alanis Morissette’s “Ironic” on fist-microphones in the front seat of the Saturn. Alexis always wanted to be a part of the sister action, sitting with us at the kitchen table as we did “work stuff” and she read magazines, sharing an after-school cup of tea or some boba, supervising cookie-baking or popcorn-making.

Talk about a personality. Charm isn’t something you can create. Alexis made me laugh so often, and so much. She loved imitating our quirks – the squeak in my laugh, the way Simone holds her nose when she sneezes.

Alexis also had characteristics that Dad has always wished Simone and I had: directional orientation, amazing aptitude with new technologies, the ability to swallow pills on an incredibly low pill to water ratio, the drive to keep her room (and the house) meticulously tidy – even an enviable talent for curing her own hiccups with a single sip of water. She knew how to pick out perfect gifts – my favorite is a necklace she gave me last Christmas that looks like iPhone earbuds. She even shared Mom’s passion for knitting and piano-playing.

The remarkable thing about Alexis was that she didn’t have to be doing great things to touch people’s lives. Alexis made an impact on people every day, in her own way, in the worlds in which she lived – at school, at her after-school activities like yoga and painting and piano, at church, and most of all within our home. She taught us so much about life, love, forgiveness, and perseverance without making any big pronouncements or getting great acclaim for it. Jesus asks us to do the most that we can with the gifts that we are given – and Alexis did exactly that.

I will always miss Alexis’s indiscriminate adoration. Most people only get unconditional love from their parents – and even then, only if they are lucky. But Alexis wanted to be just like us, “the same” as she said. Alexis wanted my haircuts, my nail polish color, to drink out of my tea cup rather than her own. Alexis even wanted to wear the very lip gloss I already had on my lips. She would love it when I took my finger, got gloss from my own mouth, and put it onto hers. For her, that was bliss. And for me, the purest kind of love I have ever known. We will forever miss our Middle.