Eulogy for Sam Rush

This was done by Sam's daughter Sarah Rush - March 25, 2016.  The best I've heard



You all know what it is like to experience my father’s kindness as friends, maybe even friends who are like family, but you haven’t experienced the honor it is to be his daughter. He has guided my every day, his dreams for me lead me into the future and his compassion for others is what I will forever aspire to. 

The man that you all have known, is one who is a gatherer of people, with seemingly endless energy, and an ability to connect continuously to the people around him. But this, few people might have noticed about my dear father: He was an introvert at heart. With an even more introspective mind. He was most comfortable sitting in his spot at the end of the sofa and listening to audiobooks, going on long runs alone, and sitting in silence beside you – listening rather than talking, asking rather than telling. He appreciated Gandhi’s words, “speak only if it improves upon the silence.” He took so much time considering his presence in a room, in the questions he asked, and in the ideas that he brought. “Live intentionally,” he’d tell me.

But he pushed himself to reach out to others, to make connections, even though it did not come easily to him. I didn’t really understand this about him until I was in was in high school, exasperated with the task of hosting party after party every other weekend at our house. I’d ask him, why do we always invite people, why can’t we have a weekend or a vacation just with each other? He said, “Honestly, I’d rather spend the weekend just the four of us. But I admire each person and what they create. We have so much we can learn from our friends.” I am so glad to have shared him with all of you, for now I have many friends. Father, I will extend my hand as you have always done, even when it isn’t easy. I will continue to invite the world in.

At gatherings of friends or family, he would always single out the children and give them the love and attention he gave to my brother and I. I saw the surprise and awe on a child’s face when they realized he was actually interested to know about their lives, their passions, and their aspirations. While adults look down at, or talk about the children in a room, he talked directly to them. I have distinct images of him getting down on one knee to meet a child eye-to-eye, as an equal. That always impressed me about him, because I too, fail to appreciate the beauty and wisdom of children. He built friendships with children, because I believe that he himself was child-like – believing in ideas, all of the possibilities that life offers, and, believing in love. “Children are the truth,” he’d say. He believed that talking to a child is like talking to our creator.

My dad believed that appreciating nature brought him closer to God. He knew that a god who created so much beauty would want it to be appreciated. That is what my dad did every day, from sunrise to sunset. He wanted my brother and I to have a childhood that was so green and full of life, like his own childhood, vibrant with the fruits of god’s creation. He furnished our lives, not with furniture or things, but with living breathing creatures that you form a relationship with. My childhood was filled with days in the outdoors – “god’s playground” – he’d call it.

I will miss being with him to watch the sun rise, to play volleyball in the dark after the sun sets, to stand at the top of a mountain peak together in winter, to read books together on the porch while the tall pine trees sway around us. I will miss riding horses together through cypress creek. But for me, he will exist in every tree, every warm gust of wind, in each leaf. When I go for a run, he will now be just a voice in my head, coaching me as he sees me struggling, “Thank your body, Sarah - thank your legs, thank your lungs, thank your heart.” And I will continue.

He believed in the gift of challenges, big and small. He’d say, when you don’t have challenges in your life, you have to create challenges for yourself. He inspired countless friends to bike in the MS 150, in the Ironman races, in the Houston Marathon, to go snowboarding, or horseback riding with him. Not because he needed a partner, but because he knew that we could do it. He has faith in our strength. He wants to see us succeed. I’ve been blessed to have his firm, but gentle pressure at my back – urging me to try harder, be better. I am better because of it. I think back on the hundreds of times he has asked me, “wanna go for a run?” with that fire in his eye, and I become inspired. I see passion in his steps. He made me believe. Believe in myself, and believe in him. I follow him.

One of the great lessons I learn from my dad is humility. He would be astounded by how many of you have said; 'Sam has changed me for the better.' We all know he would immediately turn the compliment back onto you, saying, 'YOU my dear friend, you are the one who has changed ME for the better!' And I do believe that he has held a piece of knowledge from of each one of you in his daily thoughts, actions and interactions. He has taught me how to appreciate others first, even before yourself. He’d tell my brother and I throughout our lives, “your success is my success. Through you, I succeed.” And now, that will always be true. Father, I am everything you are—I am you. Everything that you are, I have always wanted to be. I cant believe that you are gone, and so I won’t believe it. I will remember you, and you will act through me. Through me, you will see the world. Through me, you will continue learning and growing. Through me, you will continue touching lives. And through you, I will do my most loving work. I will care deeply for others. Through you, I will see the very best in others and encourage them to see what I see – what I know what you would have seen as well. Through me, I hope you see, breathe, love, laugh, again.

--Sarah Rush, Eulogy given at Celebration of Life at Prince of Peace Catholic Community, Tuesday March 29, 2016