Staci is light. She is fun and silly and sensitive and smart and athletic and talented. She's a surfer, a skater, and a skier. She is sensitive, and not nearly as tough as she pretends to be. She is love. She is brave and beautiful and well-spoken and sparkly. She is my daughter.
Staci wanted to DO everything. She wanted everyone to be her friend. She wanted to be on the Honor Roll. She wanted to play in every sport, on every team. She wanted to talk and be heard all the time. She wanted people to listen to her, to play with her, to learn with her, to laugh with her, and to party with her. She didn't care about convention, or rules, or manners, or safety, or worries, or time. She was magic and spirited, and so much fun to be around. Her imagination blurred a bit with reality, but she didn't care. She loved me and she knew how much I loved her. She loved her son Eli Gabriel, and when we lost him to Tay Sachs Disease when he was three, we heard Staci when she repeated that she only wanted to join him. We wanted Staci in OUR world, but she inhabited her own time and space. And in the end, she chose to NOT chose sobriety, to follow no rules, to reject the boundaries of a harsh life, and to lie down and rest with her son.