May 16, 2019: Tomorrow is five months without Alex

The thing about time…and nights and afternoons not spent with him…it gives you the space to go through everything. Clothes, papers, files, old notebooks, plastic bins tucked away under years of things deemed more important at the moment.

Today, looking through an old cabinet, I came across a handful of files. The first, marked LEADERSHIP, included a spiral notebook of his time at a leadership seminar (no dates were written in the notebook. It could have been from 1991 or before 2012, when the file cabinet made its way into our garage when we built the house.) Most of the notes were what you would expect, until I came to a page of short assignments. Written in his careful penmanship, was this:

I don’t know if he ever wrote his obituary. I’m going to guess that if he did, it was lost long ago, on a hard drive or floppy disk.

At the bottom of the drawer was a letter dated September 10, 2001. It was written to the manager of the company he had been interviewing with in Virginia. We lived in Boston at the time, but Alex had spent part of the previous week in Fredericksburg to tour the plant and meet the people. We found on September 8 that we were pregnant with Jackson. It’s stunning to put all these pieces together in my mind right now. I even remember what we did on September 9 – it was Cassie’s baby shower for Chloe. Cassie’s grandmother (who passed away just a few weeks ago) took Bradley from me and sat out on the patio of the restaurant and looked out at the water with him, so that I could have a few minutes uninterrupted.

And while I was at work and Bradley was at day care on the 10^th, Alex wrote these words: “What I value most, my deeply rooted and cultivated principles are relatively straightforward: family, honor, service, organizational loyalty, and a constant drive for self-improvement. Furthermore, I value the ability in myself, as well as in others, to have the resolve to manage and adjust preconceived priorities as necessary while holding true to one’s core beliefs.”

“adjust preconceived priorities as necessary,” he said. And there’s nothing like his death to make the boys and I adjust our preconceived priorities.

Next week would have been our 21st anniversary. Three of us have had birthdays. We've made it through Christmas, New Year's, and a host of three-day-weekend holidays. And the hallmark holidays: Valentine’s Day, Mother’s Day. We have gone to sleep and woken up without him for more than 150 days.

We got a puppy. Wegmans opened in Virginia Beach. Life has gone on.

But it hasn't, also. I am in a version of purgatory most days. The widow lens was dropped in my eyes 5 months ago and nothing looks the same since. Time is different. Breathing is different. I got a tattoo; Alex would hate it. (He would probably hate more the fact that he is dead, and that his death prompted the tattoo.)

Grief is a mountain. Some days we scale it. Other days we slide back down the side and land on our faces. It's a process. Finding a set of folders, like I did today, is a gift.

The boys and I have learned a lot: about ourselves, about each other, about who we are without Alex.

This is turning into a diary entry; it wasn’t meant to be. Thanks for reading this far.

Opening Prayer

from Rev. Jim Simons, St. Michael of the Valley Episcopal Church of Ligonier, PA

Read by Chaplain Randy Gibson

Oh God, who said it is not good that man should be alone, we give you thanks that we are surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, both earthly and heavenly, a community of saints who mourn the death of your servant Alex and rejoice for his life in the sure and certain knowledge of the resurrection to eternal life. Grant that your servant, Alex, being raised with your son Jesus Christ may know the strength of his presence and rejoice in his eternal glory; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. AMEN

Eulogy

by Matt Cedro

Brothers and sisters, today, many of us meet for the first time. All of us brought together by Alex Varga, son, husband, father, and brother to all.

Our families have always been tied together through Alex, but never so closely than now, in this moment moving forward. This is one of many gifts, that Alex has left to us. Thank you all, for stepping in to be with Lisa, Bradley, Jackson and Sam, to help guide them through this difficult time.

In Western Pennsylvania, Alex quickly got his start, at 8 months old, he began walking and soon was climbing out of this crib.

At three he received his first tennis racket and was soon up in the middle of the night, waking his mom up, and heading to the play room where he would practice against the wall until he wore himself out. This kind of determination led him to a team State championship. Soon, a switch to baseball, wanting to be part of a more team-oriented sport. This sense of team commitment stuck with him ultimately leading him through school and to the Navy. You all know Alex, he was fiercely competitive with a deep sense of team loyalty.

What would Alex do? What would dad do? What would our brother do?

We have all asked this question in one way or another, and we’ll continue to ask these questions when we need guidance, knowing that he is listening.

His advice was always steeped with integrity, commitment to mission, and a straight up do what’s right, not what’s easy.

Rewind twenty years ago when I first met Alex and his family, I had just begun to date his little sister, and there was Alex, he was not easy on me.

As many of you would expect, Alex made it difficult for me right out of the gate, Lisa of course buffered his relentless attempts to challenge my commitment to his sister. Alex presented a gauntlet of prods, jokes, and mental challenges for me, usually revolving around Steelers trivia. And since I would now be the youngest among them, there was always the open offer, to set a kids table for me at the end of the dinner table. He had a blast with it. Over the years we built a strong bond and relationship built on mutual respect and family, he always led by example.

Through out the years, Alex and Lisa have always been there for us. With transparent and direct advice, they helped us navigate through challenges of our own.

Alex always reached out to help.

The last conversation we had together, he had called to check up on our family, to see if the girls and I had settled in. He asked about some of the details of our new job, and then he told me that he was proud of us.

A gift I will never forget.

He then asked me if there were any Star Wars toys I wanted for Christmas. I always appreciated how he followed sincerity with sarcasm and comedy. I always got it…

Alex always asked about others, he spoke about his family, of Lisa, of her accomplishments and of their boy’s lives, and their own personal journeys.

He extolled Lisa’s professional accomplishments, talents and gifts.

He cherished sharing his love of cooking with Bradley, his passion for music with Jackson and delighted in Sam’s wit and intelligence.

He was always so very proud, and loved them so very much…

A video, voicemail, a lost picture found under the bed, a knocked over plant, a box of love letters and receipts, stories of boarding school, dance lessons, and college. Past, present and future to be found, all these tokens and memories, all of these gifts from Alex, are reminders of how he lived and loved his family. His guidance from beyond, moving forward in our own lives will always be there when we listen.

It is now to us to share these memories and gifts with others…

Alex rarely spoke of his own accolades, and when he did it was always with a deep sense of humility, he always revolved back to Lisa and the boys.

We were always curious of what exactly Alex did for the Navy, his duties, responsibilities, his challenges. He was always vague with his response, he would always try to turn us away with terminology like, logistics, supply lines, and deployment schedules… Alex code for just don’t ask.

We always knew that he was a part of something more important than one as an individual, a part of a team, a brotherhood, a family that some of us will never comprehend.

We will always be proud that Alex is forever part of your family, watching over all of us, at all times. Thank you, from our family, to yours.

Thank you Alex

Memories of Alex

by Melissa Maisenbacher

Without a doubt the two most well known facts about Alex Varga in our house are

ONE – he cooked the best steak

And TWO – he graduated from Cornell.

The latter is because my husband, Herb, was not accepted to Cornell…TWICE. Pointing this out was one of Alex’s favorite pastimes.

Alex had a subtle yet amazing sense of humor – at least for those individuals without Cornell rejection letters.

His clever remarks were usually accompanied by a half smile that became an entire grin when you saw that his eyes were full of laughter.

For us his text message were a source of considerable amusement. His quick and witty text response to my panicked all caps request for garlic was “Do you have a vampire problem?”. No, I just had a shopping list problem. He wasted no time in sending my husband the Saturday night live Subaru skit when he traded in his Prius for a Forester, and my all time favorite text exchange happened a few months ago.

Alex and I were supposed to be on the same flight into Norfolk. We had planned on having cocktails and sharing a ride back to the neighborhood. But, my connecting flight was delayed and as I was running through the airport while Alex had already boarded the flight, he sent me a text saying “TIME FOR THE DISTRACTION!”

Despite my sprint, I missed the flight. Alex’s next text read: “Now, I have to put all my clothes back on…” I’m sure the gate agent was confused to see me crack up laughing at the just missed flight.

Even Alex’s discipline measures showed his sense of humor. One afternoon, Alex came over and seemed slightly off, but all he said was: Bradley will be over in a minute. Bradley walked in, Alex handed him a stack of paper and calmly said – Read this all – I’ll be home to discuss later. Then just as calmly Alex said to me – that was the Virginia Beach fire code manual. Bradley and his friend just tried to blow up the neighborhood.

Now back to Alex’s cooking – especially the steak. At one of many neighborhood parties my then 9 year old son was served well done steak. He loudly stated WHO SCREWED UP THE STEAK? I was horrified. Alex’s eyes twinkled. Obviously we were not in his kitchen.

Just a month ago the same kid – now a preteenager was really mad at me and stomped out of the Varga’s Hanukah party; he came back only when he heard Alex’s was cooking a steak. A few bites in and suddenly everything was OK – somehow I was forgiven. I’d claim Alex’s steak was magic.

So to come full circle, Alex would be happy to know Lisa and the boys continue to flaunt his Cornell degree and we continue to rave about his cooking. And to finish with another Alex memory, a movie quote, for his prolific movie quoting abilities “All the stories, even the ones we love, eventually come to an end.”

My god could that man cook. Raise your hand if he ever cooked anything for you. His roasted veggies are legendary in our neighborhood. I’m not kidding. Raise your hand if you’ve tried to replicate them. No matter what, they never turn out like his did.

Nothing made him happier than the days his sons were born. While I was in labor --and not progressing -- he would go and give blood down the hall at the hospital.

It was chaos, having three under three, but he often said he wouldn't have it any other way. And the joy he felt for Andy and Matt and Leeanna and Paul when their children were born was unsurpassed. Seeing his sisters as mothers made him beam with pride.

Last Tuesday night, the boys and I sat in the bedroom for an hour and went through our phones and listened to old voice mails and read texts from Alex. We cried. We laughed. We looked through scrapbooks and old calendars. We are deep in grief.

As a child, he went running out of the room when Snuffalupagus appeared on screen. A short list of movies that brought him to tears: Inside Out, Titanic, Marley and Me, Forrest Gump, The Princess Bride. The list of movies he fell asleep watching was endless, but most recently was the Incredibles 2.

He was a master at swaddling babies and getting them to fall asleep on his chest. But try showing him a meme and you'd have to end up explaining the history of the meme, and it just wasn't worth it to show him a meme.

As it turns out, my husband was a bit of a hoarder. Loose change, unopened mail, empty antacid containers, even uncashed checks. And McRib receipts. He and Jackson had plans to 3d print a McRib mold so they could make them at home.

So lets talk about plans. Alex had plans. To go golfing last Wednesday with Juan and Mike. To spend our 50th-ish birthday wandering around a city with the Cornell Couples. To watch his oldest son graduate and enlist in the army, to watch Jackson reach his goals of becoming a music educator, to teach Sam to burp the alphabet (oh wait, he accomplished that goal.) He had plans to take me overseas this year to show me parts of the world he'd been to on his Navy travels.

The biggest plan he made, though, was to take care of the 4 of us in case anything happened to him. And so my message to all of you is this, as you sit here and wonder “how can this be? He was so young?” Talk about this with your other halves. Make plans. Talk to a financial advisor so that if this happens to you, you can call him and he knows what you said you wanted in this situation, because your mind will be mush. Make plans for your kids and their future. You already schedule everything for them, if you are gone and there is no plan for their care, they will be very surprised.

And am thankful for the many plans that came to fruition, our 2008 road trip across the country, getting to see Jackson in the Macy's Great American Marching Band last month. Sending me the link to buy Sammy a watch for Christmas. Watching he and Jackson buy our third car this summer. Building his dream house. He'd recently developed an affinity for cowboy boots, and he and Bradley had a friendly competition about researching and buying the best of the best. As Bradley told me on Christmas Eve: "I’d never tell dad this, but he won." Please see Bradley for a complete history of the boot purchases, culminating with the Giant Gator Belly earlier this year.

Seven years ago, the five of us were spending Thanksgiving with my parents in Orlando. I had taken Bradley to Islands of Adventure. Alex had taken Sam and Jackson to Legoland. My phone rings: “Hi, is this Lisa Varga? Yes, this is a park ranger at Legoland. I have your kids but we can’t find your husband.” The upshot is, he went to the car to get sunscreen and left an 8 year old and 9 year old to manage themselves in the park, because it was easier than trying to get them to walk to the car and back with him. And it was hard to get mad at him – he trusted his kids so much, he gave them a lot of responsibility at a young age, because he knew they could handle it. And they handled it. They asked for help when they started to get nervous. It was a good lesson for them. Though all of us are being strong, we are only 12 days into this new normal of ours, and we are learning to ask for help. We promise, we will call on you. Thank you for being here to celebrate Alex.