Dear Friends and Family,

 

We would like to express our sincere appreciation to everyone who participated, attended, and shared in Quincy's Memorial Service.  Our family has been blessed with so much love and kindness from so many both near and far, and we are deeply grateful.

 

A few days after Quincy's service we went to Southern California to see friends and then spent a week with just the boys in San Diego.  It was good to get away but it also became immediately apparent to all of us how much we miss Quincy.  Knowing she is safe, cancer-free and without pain is comforting; but it doesn't take away the sadness we feel.  Our daughter's passing has left a big whole in our family and a bigger whole in our hearts.  Coming home from the trip and having the boys start back to school has been difficult. We are trying our best to get back on a normal routine, but not having Quincy here is very hard for us and our healing will take a long time.

 

Many of you have asked if we could post what we said at Quincy's Memorial Service and we have done so below along with the words from Pastor Kathi McShane. 

 

Over the next weeks we will begin the process of turning the Quincy Lee Fund, which so many of you have so generously contributed to, into a foundation.  Our goal is to support pediatric cancer research and aid those families still fighting the battle.

 

Thank you and God Bless,

Roger and Lisa

 

FROM QUINCY'S MEMORIAL SERVICE - AUGUST 9, 2004

 

Words of Welcome - Kathi McShane
We are here today to share together a celebration of the short-but-grace-filled life of Quincy Aidan Lee, and to mourn together the end of the part of her life she spent on this earth.  “Blessed are those who mourn,” Jesus said, and so we are very blessed on this day.  We are blessed by a God who knows and understands our sorrow, a God who weeps with us; the same God who gave Quincy to Roger and Lisa, and to all of us, for six years. 

Many of you were here in this sanctuary almost two years ago, when we gathered for a healing service for Quincy.  This day continues that one.  Your prayers carried Quincy and her family through two more years, and will carry them through the next days and months.  Never once did we stop praying for her.  Quincy's death does not negate those prayers, or the God who heard them. There are many things we do not understand about why Quincy's life was so short.  There will be days to ask those questions, and to talk about what might be the answers.  But today is a day to celebrate Quincy's life, and to give thanks for the gifts we have received from her and through her.

It is also a day to share our sadness, to cry together and hold one another up, and to know that for all the tears, we wouldn't have given up one moment of Quincy's life.  Grief, it has been said, is the tax that we pay on the loves of our lives, and there is no love that is not worth the price of its loss. 

And so, in sadness, in gratitude for Quincy's life, and in our hope and faith in the God with whom she lives still, we gather today to worship.

 

Prayer - Kathi McShane
Compassionate God, you have promised to be with those who gather in your name.  Now hear the prayers of this community that has gathered to mourn.  Hear our cries, and let us hear yours; break through our wall of grief, and give us faith to cling to your love that passes our understanding.  As Jesus took the children in his arms and blessed them, bless Quincy and bless our memories of her.  Help us to remember the laughter and the tears of her life, the pleasures of loving and being loved by this child.  Give us grace to find meaning and hope in her life, that was as precious to you as it was to us; and to give you thanks, even as we protest death's unjustness.  Dear God, you grieved for your beloved Son, and still you grieve for sick and dying children everywhere.  Only you know how much Lisa and Roger have loved their daughter and love her still; comfort them with your readiness to receive Quincy from their arms into your own, and to keep her in your never-ending care.  We know you hold her already.  Amen.

Words of Remembrance - Kathi McShane
 Quincy Aidan Lee was born at 11:59 p.m., on March 5, 1998.  She was healthy, she was a girl; but most impressively, she had red hair, like her two brothers.  And from the moment she was born, this child knew she had a safe, secure and treasured place in the Lee family.  She was a round and happy baby, and she was the apple of her parents' and her big brothers' eyes.  From the moment she got home, Brody and Keenan entertained her constantly, and she rewarded them with her great laugh, which came readily and often.  She did whatever she needed to to keep up with them, including beginning to walk at 9 months, so that she wouldn't miss a thing.  She couldn't wait to go to school, so that she could put on her backpack and walk to Rancho with her brothers.
 And somehow, I think she found a way not to miss anything that might have come her way in the six short years of her life—wrestling with her dad, whiffle ball in the backyard with her brothers, riding a bike, learning to swim and read, ballet, trick-or-treating with the big kids, kindergarten.  She was the tomboy and athlete who loved to play hard with the boys, and she was all little girl.  She loved to cook and to dance and to try to be just like her mom.  She was able to mother all those stuffed animals and dolls, as well as Brody and Keenan and Aladdin and Jasmine, the two kittens.  She loved purple and butterflies. 
Quincy was a healthy baby and toddler.  When she was three, she suddenly began to have terrible back pains, and it was only after several visits to doctors that tests revealed that her body was already full of tumors.  On the same day Lisa and Roger learned that their daughter had cancer, Quincy was admitted to the hospital at UC San Francisco, where she spent much of the next year.  There were days of pain, and nights of worry, and predictions that her little broken body couldn't withstand even the first round of chemotherapy.  But it did.  The hope and persistence of the doctors, the practical support of friends and family members, and the prayers that seemed to come from all over the world sustained Quincy and her family, giving them strength for each next step they needed to take.  At the end of that year, in November 2002, Quincy was cancer-free, but its shadow hid just out of sight.
The following March the cancer was back, and from then on, it would advance and then retreat with each new treatment.  And still we hoped for a cure, and prayed for grace until it came.  The cure never came, but the grace came in abundant supply.  
  In an almost-magical ballerina party to celebrate Quincy's 5th birthday;
· In a Make-a-Wish trip to Disneyworld that seemed to come at just the right time, so that Quincy could laugh her way through it with joy;
· In the kindness and hope of the doctors and nurses who treated Quincy with love as well as skill;
· In the good humor and amazing self-sacrifice that came to Roger and Brody and Keenan, and then to the boys' friends, that inspired them to let Lisa and Quincy shave their heads in solidarity with Quincy's chemotherapy-caused baldness;
· In a full year of kindergarten, and the gift of classmates who were compassionate enough to follow Quincy's fashion-forward style of wearing colored bandanas;
· In an extraordinary group of family members and friends, some of whom identify themselves only as “agents”, who have gone to unimaginable lengths to make sure that every ounce of Roger and Lisa's time and strength was reserved for caring for their family;
· In the unfailing resources of stamina and wisdom and love that made Lisa and Roger able never to waiver in their vigilance, their hope, their energy or their commitment for this child who was entrusted to their care.
· And grace came in whatever vision or wisdom or determination came to Quincy—the depth of which we will probably never know—that allowed her never to complain, to learn to walk all over again after each surgery, to answer that “no, her leg didn't hurt,” no matter how badly she was limping; and to say to her dad that she knew heaven would be the prettiest place she would ever live. 

The last few weeks were not easy. The days were full of the things you do with a sick child.  Lisa and Roger and Lisa's parents, Geri and Ron, monitored her pain and did what they could to keep it at bay.  They made her the food she loved, and brought her paper plates with zoo animals on them to coax her to eat.  They watched movies and drew pictures and played cards and laughed at the kittens.  Brody and Keenan were as attentive and as full of care for their sister as had always been. 
 Quincy never went into a coma before she died.  She lived every minute of her little life.  On Wednesday morning, after a restless night, she told her mother she loved her, she asked if her brothers were awake, and then she breathed her last breath as she laid right in between Roger and Lisa, right where she had always felt safe and loved, right where she knew she would be taken care of. 
 The stories that have shaped our view of the world are often the ones that are short enough to know by heart:  The Good Samaritan, The Gift of the Magi, Cinderella.  Like many things we treasure, the measure of Quincy's life is not in its length, but in the love it drew forth, its power to move us.  Quincy's was a life that changed the world, because it is a life that has changed us.  For this—for the untradable grace of her life among us—we give thanks. 

 

Quincy was a determined little girl, full of hope and love, with many talents.

She loved to draw and enjoyed making pictures for everyone.  This past month of July was a very tough one for Quin, but she was determined to make birthday cards for Mommy, Daddy, and Nanny's July birthdays. Even in all of her pain and discomfort, she sat at the kitchen table with her head resting on the table and made three beautiful cards starting each one with her familiar phrase, “Love, Quincy” then writing to whom the cards were for.  She always started each picture she drew with her signature “Love, Quincy.” And love is what she had for life and living each day. 

Quincy had many short term and long- term goals.  In our family we have a tradition on New Years Eve of writing down our goals for the coming year.  Two years ago Quincy's goals were going to Kindergarten, learning to read, and walking to school with her big brothers.  She was so excited to strap on her Hello Kitty backpack and leave for school with Brody and Keenan when she could.  And her joy of reading grew with each day of Kindergarten.  This years goals were riding a bike without training wheels and learning to swim.  Over spring break she got on her bike and started pedaling away without any fear and didn't stop until it got too dark out.  Her swimming skills were mastered quickly too, after just a few lessons.  We started calling her Dory from the movie Finding Nemo and would sing to her, “just keep swimming, just keep swimming”

Quincy's long- term goals were also filled with ambition.  First and foremost she wanted to be a mommy.  She told me “even though you are a mommy you can still be other things.  So in addition to being a mommy, she wanted to be a veterinarian, a ballerina, and an artist.  She thought those occupations would keep her pretty busy during the week, but the weekends were another story.  She wanted to be a
clown only on the weekend and go to parties and make balloon animals to make people smile. 

And that was Quincy; she wanted to bring happiness to everyone.  My friend very appropriately named her the ‘lemonade' girl.  Once, while taking Quincy shopping with her daughters, her girls picked out very decorative hair bands for their ponytails.  Quincy, without missing a beat said, “ I can wear mine as a bracelet.”   The last few days of her life, she needed a lot of morphine, which, in addition to her pain, made her so groggy that the boys would ask if she was asleep or awake.  But that still did not stop her lemonade spirit from shining through.  While spending her last days lying on the couch watching cartoons together, she told me that she sleeps during the commercials and wakes-up for her shows.  Our little girl, dealt many lemons in her short life, but always able to make lemonade.

Quincy fought so hard those last days to stay with us.  She gave me an incredible gift her last night.  She was in a lot of pain and struggled to breathe, whimpering and mumbling the whole night.  Then not long before she passed away, in a very clear voice she said, “Mommy,” and I said “What Quin?” and she said, “I love you.”

When Quincy was diagnosed with cancer in November 2001 at the age of 3 ½, I think many of you remember how sick she was and we were unsure if she would ever see her 4th birthday.  But with great luck we did and on her 4th birthday when she was blowing out her candles she made a wish.  A little later Lisa asked Quincy what she wished for and Quincy said “Mommy, I have the best wish in the whole wide world.”  Lisa asked Quincy what the wish was and Quincy said “I wished that I would be all better.”  So from then on every time Quincy made a wish, either at a wishing well, or seeing the first star at night, or wherever a wish might be... we would smile at Quincy and ask did you make your wish?  And Quincy would smile and say, “I did,  I wished that I would be all better.”  Late last year after one of Quincy's chemotherapy treatments we were leaving the clinic at UCSF and it was one of those days where the clinic was really crowded with cancer kids getting their treatment and it was a day when there were some very, very sick kids there.  And as we left the clinic Quincy grabbed my hand and said “Daddy, I have a new wish.  And I said “You do, even better than the best wish in the whole wide world?”  Quincy said, “Daddy, this is the bestest wish in the whole wide world.”  I picked Quincy up into my arms and I asked “What is the bestest wish?”  Quincy smiled, leaned toward me and whispered in my ear...”Daddy, I wish that all the kids with cancer would get all better.” 

Well sweetheart, someday that is going to happen. 

We have had many blessings over the past three years from so many people that became part of our lives.  I would first like to thank all the people at UCSF Medical Center.  I can't tell you how terrific, brilliant, kind, caring and compassionate all of the doctors, nurses, staff, technicians, counselors and everyone we came into contact with were to our daughter and our family.  I also would like to thank the people at John Muir who were wonderful too.  And Dr. Kate, even though you tried to get Quincy to talk to you for nearly three years with little success, you should know Quincy really loved you.

We have been blessed by so many reaching out to us over the last three years - people near and far, family and friends, friends of friends, friends of family, it's been quite remarkable.  We would like to thank all the people of the Rancho community and the Alamo/Danville area that have been so kind to our family. When we moved here nearly nine years ago we had no idea what a truly beautiful community this would be.  Lisa and I said many times along the road of Quincy's treatment that no matter what the outcome, you have shown us that people are good, people care, the world is a wonderful place. 

We would like to thank all the volunteers and members of San Ramon Valley United Methodist Church; and especially Kathi McShane who has supported us both emotionally and spiritually.  And for always being there, especially when we needed her most. 

We would like to thank our families and close friends who have been right by our side from the very beginning.  I especially want to thank the Julies.  I think anyone who knows of Quincy and our family also knows the Julies.  Julie Peck and Julie Tuckness have given our family so much help and support and taken care of so many details in our life during Quincy's treatment that we are forever grateful.

There is something dreadfully wrong when two young boys have to lose their little sister to cancer.  But our sons, Brody and Keenan were the greatest big brothers to Quincy that a mom and dad could ever hope for.  They made Quincy laugh, they sometimes made her mad and cry, but they always loved her.  And ‘Oh' did Quincy love her brothers.  Many years from now when Brody and Keenan fully understand what Quincy went through fighting this disease, they will be very proud and honored to have had their little sister be a part of their life and a part of them.

Quincy was such an incredible blessing to our family.  I am going to miss her with every breath of every day.  I am going to miss her sitting at the head of our dinner table barking orders, eating strawberries, running and jumping into my arms when I get home from work, the sparkle in her eyes, the never-ending smile on her face.  I guess when you are a parent there isn't a rule that says your children will outlive you.  On the day Quincy was born if God had said to Lisa and me “Here is your beautiful child, hold her and love her, but in six years I am going to want her back; without hesitation, we would do it and love and treasure each and every day.  I think this is a special gift Quincy gave to our family - loving and treasuring every day.

I would like to leave you with one thought.  Quincy fought cancer for half of her short life.  She never complained, it didn't bother her, she just wanted to be like any other child growing up.  She didn't really understand cancer - only that it was bad.  At the end before she died, when she was in so much pain and really suffering she kept fighting and fighting, never complaining, fighting for one more day, one more hour, one more minute, and then her cancer overwhelmed her.  If you come to a point in your life where you feel challenged, or tested, or need an extra boost of energy ...I ask you to think of a sweet little girl, this sweet little girl with the heart of a lion, who kept fighting and fighting against an invisible disease, because she knew how much she loved her family and how she loved each and every day.  I think her spirit is a gift our little angel would like to share with all of us.

Thank you and God Bless You. 

 

Words of Hope - Kathi McShane
 I want to say a few words first to you who are children, who knew Quincy as a sister, a classmate, a cousin, or a friend, or the sister of your friend. 
&nbspo you see this empty chair up here?  This particular chair wasn't Quincy's, but it's here to remind us of the chairs that are empty now because they were Quincy's place.  Her place at the table in her family's kitchen, her chair at school, her place in the games that maybe you used to play with her.  Her place in our hearts. 
 It's uncomfortable to have an empty place that's supposed to be filled.  Nothing works as well as it did before.  We feel sad. 
 But that empty chair is one of the ways we remember Quincy.  And it's important to let it stay empty for a while, even if it does make us sad and it looks like it ought to have someone sitting in it. 
 The Bible tells us that life is God's gift to us.  No one knows just how long each of our lives on earth will last. If we are lucky enough to know someone like Quincy, we can learn the lesson that it's important to appreciate every day and every minute we have with our friends and the people we love.
 We don't understand why Quincy had to die.  None of us do.  But we know this—and I know it as surely as I know myself—that Quincy's life is not over.  That she lives with God forever, and she is as loved and happy and healthy as she ever was on this earth.  We can't see her, and we can't see where she is.  We have to trust God to love her for us. 
 And God does that.  It's a good deal.  And in the meantime, our part of that deal is to notice the blessings that God gives us in this life, and to take care of them.  We have to treat the people who fill the chairs in our lives like treasures, and to remember with love the people who filled the chairs that are empty now. 
 For a while, and especially today, there will be a lot of sadness.  We are all very sorry that Quincy died.  One of the ways we remember her is to cry and be sad together.  But everyone will be OK.  Your mom and dad will be OK.  You will be OK.  God will take care of us all. 

 I have carried for years in the calendar that holds all my most important reminders a letter from a father whose son was killed accidentally just before his 15th birthday.  After his son's funeral, this father said in the letter, he bought a crucifix and put it on the wall above his son's empty chair at their dinner table.  Now for this man, and for me, a crucifix is not part of our regular spiritual practice—we Protestants don't really do crucifixes.  But, he said, every evening at dinner, when he was most conscious of his son's empty chair in front of him, he could lift his eyes to the crucifix and remember that God too knows what it means to lose a child.  Remember that God has suffered grief like this one.  It was somehow comforting to him, and it is to me too, to know that God is not only the God of the sufferers, but the God who suffers with us.  And in the end, that is even more important to our well-being than thinking that God could cure cancer with the snap of a finger or make the people we love live forever. 
This is a God we can trust.  This is a God whom we ought to take seriously when he said, “I go to prepare a place for you;” and “I am the resurrection and the life; because I live, you also will live.”
I often think that at times like this, the purpose of our faith is not to answer the question “Why?” but to answer the question, “What shall we do next?”  In Quincy's life, Roger and Lisa and all of you who have supported them have always known, somehow, what to do next.  You have been motivated by love and energized by compassion.  And now your faith—and if you don't have any of your own, take mine—now our faith says, “Choose life.”  Choose to believe that there is new life for Quincy and a restored life for Roger and Lisa and healing all around us. 
Let Quincy's legacy be the way we live our lives, now that we have been touched by the hope of hers.  You have learned valuable lessons of compassion from her life and death; don't let those lessons go.  As a community of friends and supporters to Quincy's family, you have marshaled resources that you probably didn't know you had. 
Remember that there are lots of places and people in the world where all of that is still needed.  We can make things easier for one another.  That too is Quincy's legacy, one more way she will live forever. 

 

Prayer - Kathi McShane
Let us pray.  We commit to your care, loving God, the soul of Quincy Aidan Lee, our daughter, sister, granddaughter, and friend.  We trust that her days with you will be long and full of joy.  And we know that you commit to our care the memory and legacy of her spirit, through which she lives in our hearts.  Amen.

 

Blessing - Kathi McShane
Go forth in peace, in hope, and in the sure knowledge that Quincy is held in the strong and loving arms of the One who has brought her to her final healing. 
The grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the communion of the Holy Spirit be with you all.  Amen.