This Star Won't Go Out

Esther, I will never forget when I officially met you on Skype and Twitter during the 2009 Scripps National Spelling Bee. I have watched the bee every year since I’ve met you, not only because it is incredibly fun and it reminds me of the origins of Catitude, but also because it reminds me of you. You and the competitors shared a drive to constantly acquire new knowledge. Additionally, much like the spellers, you showed the courage to make mistakes and learn from them. But most of all, the fierce competition of the bee reminds me that you were a fighter until the end. To me, the bee will forever be a symbol of the spirit of Esther Earl. <3

—MORGAN JOHNSON




I guess, selfish as it is, I am still kind of reeling over my personal loss, and I’m worried about my friend not being imagined complexly enough—in my memory, by people who hear her story. And if that’s the price to pay for getting people to consider everything from health care to mortality to interpersonal kindness, if we allow ourselves to take some direction from the person who I remember Esther to be: friendly, funny, sweet, above all a pal, well at least there’s something there.

—ANDREW KORNFELD



“A Father and his Wizard,”

SQUANTUM, MASSACHUSETTS, 2010





EULOGY,

Esther Earl’s Funeral, August 29, 2010


by Wayne Earl


Thank you, Jim and Julie Salmon, and thank you Pastor Jim and Medway Village Church, for opening up your hearts to us; your home to us. Esther would have been so happy to see all these people, to know that she had so many friends that loved her. And she sang right from this stage, she was in the choir, and she enjoyed many good songs in this place.

And so, you may say, well, “Why are you up here making these comments, I mean what do you know?” Well, I got the front-row seat. And I got to see her closeup. It wasn’t just box seats; I was in the dugout. I was right with her in her life. But more than that, I got to love her. And I got to be loved by her. And we got to love her. We got to be loved by her, touched by her brilliance.

And then, you know it’s not coincidence that this was her name: Esther Grace. It’s the only name we had for her. I mean if she had been a boy she might have been Herman Mudd or something, but she was a girl so her name is Star. I always called her Star. I always called her Estee. And Grace was just the reminder we didn’t want to forget that it’s all about grace. It’s all about the fact that we don’t deserve these good things, but they’re ours anyway, to enjoy and to share and to delight in. She was a star! A star illumines, right? I mean when we see the light it’s gone out. But it brightens something; in this case it shined its light—her light—of grace.

She helped us to see our flaws, but you weren’t overwhelmed with that. She helped us see our potential, our life, what we could contribute . . . our awesomeness, right? Some relationships are bad for you, you want to get out of there as soon as you can, and others are good. You like them, you like them to stay that way. And others change us, and we’re never the same. We walk away and we say, “Something happened to me, I am different . . .” The way I describe it is that I want to stand a bit taller, I want to serve a bit deeper, I want to love longer. I want grace to permeate my life. She did that. She lived. Esther lived! Sixteen years, but she lived well and she lived deeply and she was alive!

She loved to go fast, right? From the time she was small she was running and that hair was just flying everywhere. And it was just so bright and cheery and she loved things . . . I remember we were in Saudi Arabia; she was just four years old and she was on one of those motorcars with four wheels and she would take Evangeline ripping around the sand and up and down the streets—well sands—of Arabia.

She loved to create things. You’ve seen her artwork online; you’ve seen it up close. She was just in the middle of creating this wonderful game for Abraham and she didn’t know where the game was going, but he thought she did. She loved her vlogs and all of those cards and texts, and monkey bars and playing in the snow and the beach; everything a kid loves to do.