My name is Stephanie Huss and I am a teacher at St. Paul Academy. I have known Rory for over three years through the after-school program. Today I’d like to talk about the impact Rory had on our community. I would then like to share some of my personal experiences with Rory, who over the years, became a very close friend of mine.

Everyone. Loved. Rory. You all know that he could walk into a room and instantly make everyone feel good. But with the kids, the interaction was more special. The children adored Rory, because he could bond with them at their own comfort level while still being genuine. And he refused to modify his massive vocabulary for the sake of their ages, knowing that the kids were capable of anything.

Even kids who were a little reserved at first about his outgoing behavior warmed up to his dynamic energy and sense of humor.

I must admit that when I first met him, there was this vitality about him; even for me, it was such an overwhelming force I had difficulty making eye contact for more than a glance. When he was compelled to make a connection with you, nothing would stop him! Once I got over my own awkwardness, we instantly hit it off with our common interests in, what else, music.

I was talking with kids this week about his passing; I asked them what they would remember most about Rory. They told me about

· his great athletic abilities in virtually any sport;

· they noticed that he was always around when help was needed the most;

· they told me they’ll remember when he spoke in funny accents;

· Once, Rory brought in his own Guitar Hero set up so the kids could play.

· they wanted to remember how he reached out to the kids who sat by themselves off in a corner;

· the kids loved the way he made the most of their time together, especially in the dreary winters when there was seemingly little to keep one busy.

· and, of course, he’ll be remembered by his love of cereal. And donuts. And chocolate chip cookies. And anything containing sugar, really.

Looking back at last week, there are the inevitable feelings of guilt: the pressures of our work environment made it difficult to find the time to ask “How are you doing?” I felt us drifting apart. We used to find that time to share a moment to talk, but day by day, I found my self, on the drive home, with a long list of things I needed to tell Rory. And what hurts the most is that the list keeps getting longer, and will continue to multiply forever.

Rory, I will miss your long, graceful strides across the playground fields. I will miss your hugs you left me with on a daily basis. I will miss talking to you before I have to make a big decision at work. Most of all I will miss that look you gave me the last time we saw each other in the parking lot – that sly look of contentment, and recognition of what a magnificent friendship we had together.