For Jen.

A eulogy

It’s so good to see all of your beautiful faces.

On behalf of the Saltzstein and Kaffenberger families I extend my sincerest gratitude to all of you for taking time and making the effort to be with us on this occasion to celebrate Jennifer’s beautiful, magical, whimsical life.

As Jen’s father Rob would say, I know many of you traveled long distances to be here. We greatly appreciate it. I know Rob would be curious to find out how many states and countries are represented here today, so it would be wonderful if someone would take a survey.

Jen loves that you are here. She loves bringing people together, especially from different walks of life, her family, her childhood, her Kansas, her Florida, her New York, her theater, her JP Taravella, her Duke, her career, her closest friends.

She makes this mish-mash motion and says, “Bringing people together is magical!” Here we have living proof.

Boy, does she ever like to play matchmaker. How many marriages have we attributed to her? I think we’ve lost count. She possesses an extraordinary gift for seeing the beauty in all of us and connecting us by our common threads.

One thing about today that would make her uncomfortable is all this attention. See, she deflects praise and sympathy alike. So much of her being is directed outward in support of others.

Have you ever met more selfless person? full of empathy? a more joyous person?

She has a boundless enthusiasm for life. Every day she asks me, “What exciting adventures do you have planned for today?” (while on my way to work). She has taught me to make music out of the mundane.

Even her trips to the bathroom are a source of joy. Years of dialysis reduced her bladder to the size of a jellybean. When she was healthy, she went and she went often. She’d need to pee like it was part of a conversation. When she came back, I used to ask: “Well, did you have fun?”

At some point, she’d just say on her way there: “I’m gonna go have fun.”

Imagine what that sounds like in mixed company:

“I’m gonna go have fun.”

When I was thinking about what I wanted to say today, I knew deep down that it would be impossible for me to find the right words to capture completely who this woman is and what she means to me and what I know in my heart she means to so many of you.

I’m sure you would agree her spirit, her essence, her “Jen-ness” defies description.

I thought about what she would want. When I ask what she needs, she usually says something like, “Oooo, tell me a story”.

So, I’ll tell a story. While there are many to choose from, in thinking about how much Jen loves to bring people together, I’ve decided I’d tell the story of what brought Jen and me together.

It’s one only I can tell and I think you may enjoy hearing it.

This is, in part, a story about the first time we kissed. But I have to warn you, there is a bit of controversy.

For one, the story begins at a company holiday party. We worked together in corporate New York where relationships with co-workers are frowned upon by something called HR.

Also, we had been seeing other people at the time — not the most advisable circumstances under which to start a relationship.

Last, she doesn’t remember any part of it. Though I’d like you to believe she’s forgotten because we had an earth-shattering, transcendent, out-of-body experience, the real reason is because she was tipsy. She tended to forget things when she was tipsy.

We were sort of friends at work for a time, collaborating on various projects. But at this party, perhaps because of the atmosphere and the alcohol, we got to talking and flirting a bit. Our colleagues walked off to a karaoke bar. We followed behind.

Along the way, one thing led to another and… she discovered I’m ticklish. And boy did that ever make her excited. She would not stop tickling me. She was laughing the whole way.

Then, at a street corner, for reasons I will never fully understand, she stopped and shouted at the sky,

“I love sex!”

She threw her arms around me and kissed me passionately.

Trust me, I’m ok with the likelihood she probably wasn’t thinking of me when she shouted that. It was thrilling nonetheless. At work the next Monday, I sent her an email asking her about it.

“What are you talking about it?”, she wrote.

I responded. “You know…”

“Um, no I don’t…?”

She may not have remembered, but when I told her what happened, I had her attention. I think she fell in love with me for what came afterwards.

So we started an office romance. We’d arrange to meet outside to get coffee in secret. We had scavenger hunts, hiding things for each other throughout the cubicle farm.

On one occasion she left me a 5 Gallon tub of Cheezy Puffs in the stairwell of 2 Penn Plaza. My colleagues weren’t quite sure what to make of me hauling this barrel of junk food back to my desk in the middle of the afternoon, but it was pretty funny to me and Jen.

Our relationship developed, though somewhat to the concern of some of you all, it would be several years before I proposed.

The truth is, I fell in love with her on that street corner. Not just because of the kiss — though it was nice — but because it was the first time I saw her. I caught a glimpse of the person she is for the first time. This woman full of unmatched joy for the world. This woman with infectious laughter and love for life. Love for others.

It was beautiful.

So it was joy and laughter that brought us together. And it defined our love for each other.

So my wish for you all is to embrace love and laughter always. You’ll find Jennifer there.

She passed three days before our wedding anniversary. If I learned anything about my wife and special occasions, it is: better not forget her card. I want to close by reading the card I wrote for her on our anniversary so you can help me carry the message to her.

—

Dearest Jennifer,

Sweet pea.

Did you have fun?

I sure did. Every day I’ve spent with you has been a complete joy.

Though I failed at my job to keep you healthy and in this life and able to see your son come into this world, I know what you’d say to me in response and that gives me comfort.

I draw strength from Your voice. Your wisdom. Your kindness.

You are beautiful. You are warm. You are loving.

I owe the world to you for all you have given me.

You make me laugh. You listen to me. You are soooo patient with me.

I will live the rest of my life trying to prove my worth to you and your love.

I will take what you’ve taught me and relearn it and live it and teach it to our son.

I won’t be able to hold you in my arms, but I’ll hold you in my heart.

I won’t be able to hear you speak, but I’ll listen to what you have to say.

I won’t be able to see you — the way you make people smile, or how you call them “beautiful” and ask “how are you doing?”, but your son and I will do so your behalf.

I won’t be able to kiss you, but I will love you in my dreams.

I won’t be able to make you laugh, but I’ll laugh again (someday!) as if you are with me.

We are four years married, but in truth I’ve been devoted to you since the day we came together on a street corner in New York.

I will remain devoted to you for the rest of my life.

I have loved every minute of the nearly ten years we’ve been together.

I cherish your memory as a blessing.

You’ve given me laughter and love. I hope I’ve given you even just a little in return.

Jennifer Anne Saltzstein Kaffenberger,

I love you now and forever with all my heart.