|
|
The Funeral |
|
Dee TaylorThank you for asking me to speak today. This is an honor and I do not feel worthy of it. For the past 18 years I’ve asked myself, why has God placed me at the Hebrew Day School? And through the years He’s given me an answer. And this past year, and last year, He gave me a very precious answer. Last year when Shelly walked into my classroom, a little girl with sparkling eyes and a zest for life walked in with a very shy smile, and it didn’t take her long before she was no longer shy. She became one of my best friends. She always had a hand for me, she always knew when I was sad, and Shelly was very, very special. In the classroom, Shelly was just like every other little girl, every other little boy, every other first grader. She had days when she was angelic; she had days when she was naughty as the day is long. Shelly was Shelly. That was the thing about Shelly that amazed me. Shelly was a very complex little girl. She had an ability to enjoy life to its fullest, no matter what was handed her. She had the ability to bring life to her drawings, life to a math page, life in her journal. She enjoyed every moment that she had. She loved her Mother and Dad very very much and she wrote about them in her journal often. When we found out that Shelly was so very, very sick, one of the things that became very important to the Volks, and to Shelly, and to the other first graders last year, was that we keep life as normal as possible. Shelly is the one who led the way. I followed her lead. Shelly wanted to be sure that she missed nothing. She didn’t want to miss an assignment, she didn’t want to miss a story, she didn’t want to miss gym. She was incredible. She was the light that pulled us through those very very difficult days. Shelly’s illness was diagnosed just a few weeks before my own mother’s cancer was diagnosed. I knew I got one of the answers from God, why he put me at the Hebrew Day School. From Shelly, I learned courage to face this horrible disease, I learned how important it is to enjoy every day to its fullest. I learned that life is precious. Shelly was very, very special. From Shelly, every child in my classroom got peace. She never complained. She went on with her life and enjoyed what little she had left. I know now one of the reasons why God placed me at the Hebrew Day School. In my arrogance, I thought I was there to give to the children. But what God has shown me, is that I received from Shelly. Shelly has given me so many things in my life that I will treasure. She has given me humility, she has shown me how to be strong when God has handed me a very heavy load, she has shown me the courage to walk in this life and make every day special. Shelly, for this I say praise the Lord, I know you can hear us today. We miss you and we love you. Thank you.
Aaron KaufmanIt is with a mixture of grief, sadness, tears and pain that I stand before you today. My name is Aaron Kaufman. At the Hebrew Day School, where I teach Hebrew and Judaic studies, I’m known as Morah Aharon. For a little over a year, I’ve had the honor and privilege of teaching Shelly Volk. Yet at this very sad time, I am also filled with a sense of joy that I have had the opportunity to teach Shelly Volk. The courageous student whose zest for learning and creative energy provided inspiration to all of those around her. I will always remember the beautiful way Shelly could express herself through art and music. I can recall the masterpieces, the many masterpieces that she created. One of them I recall was one that she created last Purim -- I can remember that as if it happened yesterday. Her vision of King Ahashveros, full of the most vibrant colors and exceptional details, adorning the hallway of our school for all to admire. Her warm and resonant voice, singing the songs of the Jewish holidays and chanting our daily t’filot. As one of my 2nd graders put it so well, even if we’re feeling sad, we can be happy that we’ve gotten to know Shelly. This past Monday morning at our school, we celebrated Shelly’s life in a deeply moving memorial ceremony. Led by our principal, Sheva Locke’s soothing voice and guitar, the children entered a holy place, a place in which their souls forever mingled with a bright spark, a shining star we know as our beloved Shelly. The parents, teachers and children witnessed and participated in this extraordinary outpouring of love, shared memories, and heartfelt emotions as we celebrated the soul and spirit of Shelly Volk. The children recalled her picking flowers in our playground. She loved flowers. Her love of Winnie the Pooh, and her gorgeous artwork that all admired. They read condolence letters they had written and illustrated, to Maia, Ruti and Howard Volk. A new Israeli student in our 2nd grade class shared how Shelly had taught her to speak English when she had first came to school. And when she came to Hebrew Day School she didn’t speak a word of English. Of course when she shared that, she shared it all in English. A 5th grader recited a poem expressing his deep sorrow, teary eyed. A 2nd grader spontaneously led the entire school in a song taught by Hannah Hemermesh, last year’s music teacher, recalling the words of the Torah: “Etz Hayim He Hamahazikim Ba” -- “It is a tree of life to all who cling to it” So when I speak to you about Shelly today, I speak not only for myself, but for our entire Hebrew Day School community: our parents, our current principal Sheva Locke, past principals Noami Blumenberg and Marlene Gittleman, our school Psychologist Dr. Andrea Hansel, past school psychologists, past and present faculty, past and present parents, past and present students. The entire community has galvanized so support the Volk family during this time of crisis. Most of all, I am the voice of all the teachers and students who have had the pleasure of knowing Shelly. Especially for all the students who for the past 2 months have been writing cards to Shelly on a daily basis, letting her know that she has been in our thoughts and prayers, as she began new treatments that took her out of the classroom. When Ruti told me how much Shelly enjoyed having the cards read to her, I thought it might be a nice idea to make a cassette tape of our daily t’filot which she loved so much, so that Shelly could her the children’s voices. Ruti showed me how much Shelly had enjoyed the tape that we had prepared for her, when I visited Shelly at home. The children were gratified to hear that while Shelly was still very sick, she loved receiving the cards and the tape. We continued making her cards as part of our daily prayer ritual, our daily t’filot, and sent her another tape of Chanukah songs that she enjoyed. Our 2nd graders will always remember their precious friend. I know that I most certainly will. She made a huge impression on me from the beginning of 1st grade, with her sparkling eyes, her radiant smile and her very spunky personality. Shelly was never afraid to speak her mind. When she felt wronged by any one of her peers, she would never hesitate to assert herself. I remember in the beginning of 1st grade, one of Shelly’s classmates took her marker when she wasn’t looking. And boy, did Shelly get mad. She was one tough cookie. I know I wouldn’t have taken her on if I was a 1st grader in Kitah Aleph. I admired her assertiveness, while at the same time, I tried to help her learn to control her occasional flare-ups and help her learn to work out peer conflicts in a direct but cooperative way. By the end of 1st grade, Shelly had made wonderful progress socially, learning to solve social disputes amicably. I’d like to add that one of Shelly’s last drawings in her Hebrew journal, that she illustrated this past year in 2nd grade, was a picture of herself and a classmate working out a problem. Shelly was an excellent student who loved learning Hebrew. She thrived in the Hebrew immersion environment. Her reading skills were outstanding as well as her writing skills. She was the type of student that consistently showed her best effort. Her courage during the past year has inspired all of those around her. Her knowledge of Hebrew was a wonderful resource in the classroom. She was able to help her peers understand my instructions, when they needed extra help. When Shelly was diagnosed with a brain tumor, we were all in a state of shock. But Shelly continued to come to the classroom every day with the same eagerness to learn. Ruti helped make this happen in a very big way. Right from the very beginning when Shelly was diagnosed, Ruti made it absolutely clear to all of Shelly’s teachers that we were to treat her no differently than any other child in the classroom. Ruti knew that what Shelly needed most of all was keeping to the regular routine at school. She loved coming to school. She loved learning. Consequently Shelly was able to spend every single moment at HDS focused on what she loved to do the best -- learn. Ruti’s insistence that Shelly be treated in the same way as her peers was literally the glue that kept our class together. The children knew that Shelly was accountable for her behavior even though she was battling this illness. More importantly, Shelly knew it. Sometimes it was hard for me to stay true to Ruti’s insistence that Shelly be treated as the others. I remember one time something tickled Shelly’s funnybone and she literally could not stop laughing, causing a little bit of a disruption. Actually all the children started laughing probably for about 25 minutes. Later one of the children detected (correctly I must add) that I applied a different set of standards for Shelly in that situation. I was so happy to see Shelly with the giggles, that I did not have the heart to redirect her, even though she had disrupted the lesson. The child cried out in dismay, “Moreh Aharon, how come Shelly doesn’t get a time out? That’s not fair. We would get a time out if we couldn’t stop laughing.” After conversing with Mom, that child came to realize that life really isn’t fair when you are 6 years old, living with a brain tumor. And I say “living with a brain tumor” because Shelly was always living, every moment. Shelly has taught me many things during my relatively brief time as her teacher. She taught me to persevere, to never give up. She taught me the true meaning of courage. But most of all Shelly has taught me about the precious gift we have -- the gift of life. I would like to end by honoring Shelly’s memory, her love of singing, her love of t’filot, by singing a nigun, a wordless melody that we chant every day as part of our morning prayers in kitah bet. Please join me if you feel comfortable doing so.
Dr. Eileen Mollen, Shelly’s therapistI feel very honored be able to speak about Shelly today. I got to know Shelly as her therapist, and feel very much like I ended up a friend to her and to the family. Trying to help her traverse the journey of her illness. But in all honesty, she usually led the way and seemed very wise beyond her years. From the day I met Shelly, I had to remind myself constantly that she was only 7 years old. I think of Shelly as an extremely bright, artistic child, who had a clear sense of who she was and what she wanted to accomplish, much like the Volks. Her most striking personal characteristic for me -- one that I’ll always remember -- was her wonderful belly laugh. Even when she was unable to speak, she still communicated with her eyes and that irrepressible sense of humor. On a visit to the hospital in October she and I discovered that we shared a mutual obsession for chocolate. So that day, we were able to share some of the delicious Israeli chocolates that her Grandmother had brought and we fantasized about living in Hershey, Pennsylvania, and I heard her belly laugh that day. The demands of her illness brought out Shelly’s remarkable strength and tenacity. I was often struck by Shelly’s ability to size up just what she could and couldn’t do and decide how she was going to handle it. And she clearly got the strength from her parents. For example, early in September she was having some difficulty walking but refused a wheelchair. I was very concerned that it was going to be a struggle for her to accept using a wheelchair when it did become necessary. However the next week, as her physical condition had deteriorated, she was very matter of fact as she recognized her limitations. She quietly and with great dignity requested a wheelchair. And so much like Shelly, she immediately placed her energies in more productive areas, like the communication that was so important to her. Shelly never gave up through her entire illness, even with her difficulties communicating, she found ways to let us know how she looked forward to the future. She always looked to what she wanted to accomplish and dwelt surpassingly little on what she couldn’t do. She certainly has taught me a lot about perspective and just where we should focus our energies to make the most of everything. Shelly is a child who has truly toughed my heart and leaves a very special viewpoint. One day we were in a session together and we discussed her feelings about having a brain tumor. She stated that part of her was very angry at the tumor. And being the good therapist, of course, I encouraged her to explore this a little more. She then said something that touched me more than anything a child could say to me. Her very very poignant response to me was and I quote “But I’m not too angry that I have a brain tumor, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t have met you.” Then as now, she moves me to tears. I can at least say that Shelly will live on in my heart and the hearts of so very many people that she uniquely touched.
Sheila Morris, Child Life Worker, University of Michigan Medical CenterGood morning, my name is Sheila Morris, and I am one of the Child Life Staff, along with Lisa Angler who came to know Shelly as she came to her hospital for our care. We first met this vibrant little girl as she bounded into our playroom and sort of stood there and wondered what we had planned for today. Our role is to make this experience enjoyable for children. Become a place that they look forward to coming. Lisa and I quickly became aware, not only from Shelly, but by the looks on her parents’ faces, that we had a challenge. That our cut and paste projects probably would not be stimulating enough for this remarkable child. Shelly came to view the clinic as the haven, a place where she would come to gather with friends, young friends, and her older friends, a place of safety, a place of enjoyment. As she continued with her illness and did not come to the clinic as frequently, we tried to continue our relationships with her at home. And I have to tell you that Ruti and Howard welcomed us always -- everyone -- with open arms. If you had something to share with Shelly, please come, please enrich her life. In actuality, the enrichment was reversed. All of us who were involved with her certainly walk away just cherishing our moments with this child and her loving family. What was most striking to me in this child, this very unique little girl, was the way that she took in the life around her in her world -- and then the avenues that she chose to express what she had taken in. Her art, her music, even her writing, the stories that she could tell. I remember last fall on a beautiful autumn evening, sitting on her deck with Maia and Shelly, and we were doing some painting to pass the evening. And we were painting on sweatshirts. And at that time Shelly had lost the use of her right hand and had retrained herself to use her left hand. But the work, the painting, was very tedious. She had an idea in mind that was an idea that in actuality she had expressed to other staff previously. She painted two clouds on her shirt, one a bright, soft, yellow cloud, the other a little darker, shady, a little heavier. And from those clouds came tiny little raindrops. And into those raindrops she painted a bolt of lightening. All this took a great deal of time and ultimately I thought that we were finished. She began to push the paints away. And then she stopped me and wanted more. Down in the corner she proceeded to paint a beautiful little umbrella, which she was determined needed to have a very shiny, glittery cap on the top. That creation was so symbolic to me. I have thought about it numerous times, and I am convinced that that umbrella, down in the little corner, with the glittery top, represented her parents, her family, those who helped her stay safe throughout this whole journey. And she just treasured that safety so. I recently came across a poem that reminded me of Shelly and also reminded me of all that her parents had helped to shape and mold in this very beautiful child. I would like to share it with you.
Clay in the potters hands
A brush in palette by an artists hand
And what treasure lies in each one’s art Each of us has been enriched by Shelly’s treasures, gifts and her lessons. Her essence remains as a vibrant being and strength. Cherish her presence within you and honor always the child whose beauty and courage now resides in the viewpoint and tenderness of your heart. To all the children who are here today: You are here because of your friendship and your love for Shelly. Each of you must know that all the tender deeds that you have done, the notes, the cards, the music tape, or maybe even your kind thoughts that no one else knows about, made such a difference, made Shelly feel happy. And for the rest of your life you will carry Shelly with you, with happy thoughts and gratitude for knowing her.
Susie Weber, Nurse, University of Michigan Medical CenterMy name is Suzi Webber and I first met Shelly in early spring of this year. She was an artist, creating masterpiece upon masterpiece. And I --- I painted small brown circles on a certain spot on her chest, in preparation for chemotherapy. I was one of her nurses. And my small brown circles paled greatly in comparison to her ability and her expression. There’s a story told by a dear friend of mine, which I have retold many a bedtime evening to my 5 year old son. About a month or so ago though, after 101 tellings of this very tale to my son, all of a sudden I heard a different story within that story. And it became, to me, a story of Shelly Volk. The story is about an earthworm named Herman who one day ventures above ground against his Grandfather’s warning. Now Herman loved his home and was most happy making tunnels in the cool, crumbly earth. He loved all that activity that happened underground and he would say along with his Grandfather “This place has got the buzz of life.” And yet his curiosity sent him beyond those comforts of home, beyond what was familiar. And he went above ground, and he met a caterpillar named Marguerite. And they became friends. They discovered some differences between them, yet their friendship continued to unfold. They also discovered a lonely orchard, without sounds, without bees and without apples. One day Herman was feeling rather despondent about being a worm in comparison to his friend the caterpillar. He complained to his Grandfather by saying “I’m just a dumb old worm. We don’t have eyes. We don’t have feet. Worms can’t do anything.” Grandfather said “Herman, what do you do all day?” “Make tunnels” Herman mumbled. Grandfather answered, “That’s right Herman, you make tunnels. And nothing grows without our help. All these roots down here are bottoms of tops that need air and water to grow. Everyone has a gift Herman. And we use our gifts. And when we use them well, everything hums.” Grandfather taught Herman a song. I won’t actually sing it to you. I’ll just say some of the words in this song. And some of the words go “What we do down here, Herman, how we worm and how we squirm, how we wiggle and how we squiggle, lets them live up there.” And so the friendship between Herman and Marguerite continued to evolve, and wonderful things happened. They learned how to help each other and they learned to believe in themselves. In the end, they brought life to the lonely orchard, by involving frogs and deer and bees and rabbits and dragonflies. And its written, “The orchard lifted its limbs, opened its blossoms, and danced in the breeze.” It was Grandfather who below felt the roots of an apple tree and so he came above ground to witness all that activity and he exclaimed, “Herman, this place has got the buzz of life on it!”
The buzz of life, that’s what Shelly gave. That’s what Shelly gave. From the depths of a world so changed for her and seemingly full of limitations, this young girl showed us the meaning of the buzz of life. Adjustments and transitions were made with that same buzz of life. For instance having her hair styled. Her remaining hair, that is, after chemotherapy caused that hair to thin and fall away. Using a laptop computer to communicate when her speech began to deteriorate. Using her left hand to pick up where her right hand left off. From immobility to use that pencil and that paintbrush to express herself. Delving into the enjoyment of a chocolate hoho, with determined hand mouth coordination. Watching me enjoy a bowl of chicken soup with shkedim and laughing with only part of her face as I looked up at her and said, “Shelly, we’re shkedim sisters now.” And so we toasted to life which shkedim. The buzz of life always on her face. Several changes continued to redefine t he routine within the Volk household. And yet the buzz of life existed there within the confines of their home as well as beyond their front door. At Halloween she couldn’t say the words “Trick or Treat.” But she was the most alive bunny I have ever seen. Being in a wheelchair, unable to move, unable to release that expressive spirit, unable to eat. Yet she gave to her family the buzz of life. When she could nod her head, when she could blink communication with her eyes, when she would stay awake to listen to stories and music on tape. And her family, with open hearts, welcomed and encouraged that very buzz of life that showed itself in very small and simple ways. Shelly’s Mother and Father, Ruti and Howard, with devotion ever so deep and so true, entrusted to their daughter the freedom to live the buzz of life. No matter in what shape or form, they entrusted to her that freedom. For me it has been both a joy and a privilege to share life with Shelly. For her parents, I feel tremendous admiration and respect. And forever, I will have gratitude for being reminded about the true meaning of the buzz of life. Thank you.
|