Steven James Yray-Wasilik
3/25/1998 - 6/9/2003

OBITUARY
As appeared in the Houston Chronicle, Thursday, June 12, 2003.


STEVEN JAMES YRAY-WASILIK, most beloved son, passed away on Monday, June 9, 2003, at Texas Children's Hospital. Steven celebrated his fifth birthday on March 25, 2003.

Steven had endured a life-long battle with an incurable and progressive metabolic disease. Throughout his journey, Steven displayed unflinching courage and a gentle disposition, regardless of the many painful and invasive procedures he underwent and throughout numerous and prolonged hospital stays.

Steven's strength was inspiring to all that knew him. This inspiration extended around the globe to those that learned of him through various metabolic disease organizations and associated websites. Unable to speak or communicate in conventional fashion himself, Steven nevertheless "spoke" to hundreds, perhaps thousands, of whom we may never know.

Steven's stay in this world was transitory; his legacy is enduring. He offered gifts of insight to the medical community through his illness that may help others in the future. He offered the gift of serenity to sick children and their parents by way of example. While we cannot fathom the ultimate purpose of Steven's temporal life, we do know that we have experienced the presence of one whose spiritual being gleamed brightly, even in the dimmest of circumstances. We are deeply humbled by this all-too-brief visit from such a precociously wise, compassionate and sweet soul.

Steven, or "Jay," as he was affectionately nicknamed, is survived by his parents, Joyce C. Yray and Stanley W. Wasilik; his big sister, Jasmine Yray; his grandmothers, Theresita Yray and Virginia Hullinger; his grandfather, Lee Wasilik; his uncle, Steven Lee Wasilik, and many others who knew and loved him.

Donations to the United Mitochondrial Disease Foundation -- http://www.umdf.org, are welcomed.

DAD'S EUOLOGY
[Transcribed here by request]
As delivered at services for Steven James on June 14, 2003, St. Vincent de Paul's Cathedral

I am Steven James Yray-Wasilik's father.

Those of you who saw and remember "Four Weddings and A Funeral" will know that the idea of reading the poem I'm about to recite in this situation is not original, but stolen from that movie. However, as "Four Weddings and a Funeral" stole the poem from W.H. Auden, some years after he departed this earth in 1973, I feel a bit less guilt.

This has always touched me -- even before "Four Weddings and a Funeral."

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone.
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone.
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead.
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

I read this poem because it aptly describes the indescribable: a void and loss that knows no bounds.

However, I believe that several lines of Auden's beautiful words do not apply…. I feel my love for Steven will last forever. And, I feel that much good has and will come into this world through my son's very existence.

In many ways, my son saved my life. I don't say this lightly, and some of you know this truth more so than others… more even than I might care for others to know. I cannot envision the kind of man I might be today had my son not been born, but I know I am vastly better off for having had him in my life.

But, literature and personal journey aside, I would like to impart two things, two additional gifts I believe Steven James offered.

First, as Steven James was often ill and could not really travel, many friends and relatives did not have the opportunity to know my son first-hand. I want you to know that, even at the earliest age, he was a most friendly, engaging and gentle child.

Despite how any of you might have felt about him, I can assure you he would have thought you were just wonderful, regardless of race, creed, color, age, handicap or any other discriminatory or hate-based reasons that we find to bicker. Would only that we could all look upon all our fellow mankind as did my son. His example in this regard - to me -- is the first gift of which I speak.

Second, my son's very illness, paradoxically, was a gift to me. For most of his brief life, it was unknown if he would ever ride a bike… if he would ever go to a prom, if he would marry.

Yet, the gift shrouded within tragedy is this: I am able to say to you now that I know -- not for one day -- did I take my child for granted. To the extent that it is possible (and, parents, you know what I mean, sometimes), I wish this for all of you -- for that knowledge, that feeling is sublime.

Today, here, as we bury a young boy, my young boy…. my only son, I think we all aware of how precious are our children. I would only also ask that in a week's time - a month's time - or a year's time - that you endeavor to remember this…. for we know all too well that the drudgeries of the days may impair our lucidity on such matters.

To the extent that either of these two gifts my son gave to me touch upon you, my son will have extended his graciousness into your own lives.

Being the giving, not-so-little soul that he was and is, I know with conviction that he would like that very, very much.

Thank you and god bless.

Donations to the United Mitochondrial Disease Foundation -- http://www.umdf.org, are welcomed.