Eulogy

For Jeffrey Eugene Negrea, August 13, 1965 – December 30, 2003.
By Donna Brodish

I hesitated to read a eulogy today, knowing how difficult it would be, but I know that if I had passed on, Jeff wouldn’t have hesitated one second, to write and read something about me. So, I’ll do my best.

Who was Jeff Negrea? Well, you could make a list of his favorite things:

His favorites:

Book: a children’s book called "Strangely Enough".

Band: The Doors, without a doubt.

Poem: T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”.

Hobby: This is difficult, as all who have been to our house can attest to. There were a number of things he enjoyed doing. Photography, radio communications, collecting music, books, coins and stamps.

Thing to do: Sit in the sun with me, reading, writing, talking, and laughing.
This we would do for hours on end.

But this barely describes who Jeff was. If you talked to him for more than five minutes or were a good friend, you know what I mean.

He was unique; exceptional, an extremist, a visionary, an explorer, a romantic, extremely kind and thoughtful. An Archivist, Historian, a Writer and Poet. A seeker of truth, always questioning, taking nothing for granted. And he was brilliant.

He was a son:

He loved his Mom, a registered nurse, dearly, and respected his father to no end, a Lt. Col. in the Army; awarded the Air Medal, the Combat Infantry Badge, The Legion of Merit, the Purple Heart, the Silver Star, 4 Bronze stars for Achievement, and one Bronze Star with a V for Valor. He was also a son to my parents and he held them in great esteem.

He was a grandson:

Although, his maternal Grandfather Russell Pass was deceased, he strived to be just like him. He was proud of the fact that he was the Superintendent of Agents for the Western Pennsylvania Humane Society, helping children and animals, which Jeff especially loved.

He was a nephew and cousin:

And had a special place in his heart for all of his uncles, aunts, and cousins.
He spent a large part of his time with his cousin, Christopher Pass, talking the hours away.

He was a brother:

Having no brothers or sisters of his own, he cared for my brother Dave and sister Cindy like his own. Often, just out of the blue, he would say, “Lets go get Cindy and take her for a ride out in the country. He would tease her, make her laugh, and bring her surprises. He treated her like gold.

He was a friend:

He grieved for his soul brother Brian Johnson and my cousin Gary Plummer, who preceded him in death.
I know all three of them are up there with Jim Morrison, shooting the breeze, probably non-stop. He had many friends and cared about all of them; even when they argued…they eventually made up. He’d be tickled that Shanin, Lenny, Jen and the others are here today
with us.

He was politically and socially motivated:

He was obsessed; as though who know him best can attest to, for standing up for what he believed in, even if it was unpopular. He fought against bigotry and narrow mindedness, a freethinker.

And as I said, he loved animals:

Just like his Grandfather. I remember when one of our beloved pets died, I cried for hours on end. He woke me up at dawn the next day to a beautiful sunrise. He pointed at the sun in the sky and said,
“See, there’s Monkey, when you see the sun, he’ll be there.”

Finally, he was my soul mate:

When I first met Jeff at the age of 21, which seems like yesterday, the first words he said to me were, “Hi, you’re beautiful”. I was hooked.
He taught me to love poetry, the arts and philosophy. To explore my spiritual side, to broaden my mind, and appreciate the importance of love.

Jeff would often say, “If I died today, I’d have no regrets”. Sure he felt he had made many mistakes, but he said that meeting me and the times we had together, made his life worth living. My youth was spent with Jeff and
…I have no regrets.

At times, he was infuriatingly stubborn, but more importantly, he was funny, loyal, patient, my teacher, and my best friend. He believed in fighting the good fight, never giving up, and passionately rooting for the underdog.

His impact on my life will be felt until the day I die.

To borrow a stanza from a poem by W.H. Auden:

“He was my North, my South, my East and West.
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever, I was wrong.”

These will be the worst days of my life, but I’ll try to go on and live by the motto that Jeff once wrote down, which will also be on his headstone:

“Embrace the warmth of the sun, live each day as if it is your last, love openly and with passion. Harm no one and above all else, seek the truth and all will be well.”