I have many fond memories of Emily from our childhood: born a month apart, we were inseparable for the first 10 to 15 years. Even after I moved, we called and wrote letters, eventually in a secret alphabet that only a few of us could read. I remember slumber parties, her cats and terrariums; how she knew the names of the trees and flowers; jumping on the trampoline, catching frogs and spending an entire summer sewing mermaid tails (hers green, mine purple), then having time to try them out only once before I left. A bit older, I remember shopping trips and rock music and county fairs with Emmy and Cori, and even some trips to Iowa to wander around my grandpa’s tiny town and set off fireworks for the 4th of July. As we headed to high school and young adulthood, Emily got more adventurous and harder to stay in contact with. But thanks to Cory, I got periodic updates and could even get in touch with Em occasionally. I remember meeting Liliya for the first time. She was so tiny, and happy. It was surreal to see tomboy Emily a mom, but she was radiant, and I remember her saying that she just hoped Liliya would be happy in life, that nothing else was more important. And every time I see LP, her active imagination and jokes, mischievous eyes and big smile, reassure me that she’s on the path to fulfilling her mom’s dreams for her. I feel so blessed to have been able to spend time with Emily at her wedding and witness the love between her and Andy and their union. She told me multiple times leading up to and at the wedding how she didn’t want to leave her family, Andy, LP and the boys. Death was not intimidating, but the thought of leaving you was so hard for her to accept. The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows. I know there were many dark, difficult times due to illness and perhaps reckless adventures, but Emmy was a bright light: intelligent, beautiful, open, adventurous, loving, funny—and she never ceased to surprise us. I can’t be there today, but my heart is with you. Please know how much Em loved you, her family. Take care of each other and, as much as possible, be happy as your lives continue to unfold. It’s what she wanted more than anything. All my love and sympathies, Daire
