[Congressional Record Volume 140, Number 6 (Tuesday, February 1, 1994)]
[Senate]
[Page S]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Printing Office [www.gpo.gov]
[Congressional Record: February 1, 1994]
From the Congressional Record Online via GPO Access [wais.access.gpo.gov]
THE DEATH OF SHELLY
Mr. DORGAN. Mr. President, 2 months ago, our family suffered a
terrible loss with the death of our daughter Shelly. She was a
beautiful and wonderful young woman, just entering the prime of life.
She died from complications of corrective heart surgery that was
expected to be routine and safe with a 99.5 percent success rate. But,
tragically, the surgery was not successful for Shelly. The doctors are
still unable to explain Shelly's heart failure. It was a harsh reminder
to us that the wonder of modern miracles in medicine is still tempered
with a lack of certainty and a continuing mystery about human life.
While Shelly's death is not able to be completely explained, her life
provides for me a full explanation of why we miss her so. She was a
very special young woman.
Today, I want to express how deeply thankful I and my family have
been for the expressions of prayers, support and strength from so many
friends in North Dakota and also from those with whom I serve here in
the U.S. Congress.
So many have taken the time to call or write and do the little extra
things to show they care. I want to tell all of you how much it has
meant to me and to my family.
Finally, I would like to share with my colleagues something that I
wrote following Shelly's death.
Shelly, a Treasury of Memories
She is a beautiful, bright, witty, wonderful 23-year-old
wife, daughter, relative and friend. She lived and she died.
And because she lived, our lives are forever changed.
Our sorrow is heavy today because we know our loss. The
poet Lord Byron wrote, ``There is no joy the world can give
like that it takes away.'' We know that today.
We also know that it is our lot, all of us, to die. We
understand that. But, Shelly died too young. We don't
understand that.
When a parent dies, they take with them their past. But the
death of a 23-year-old takes the future as well.
So what is left? Memories. No matter our status in life,
that is all any of us will ever leave. And Shelly, despite
her youth, left us a Treasury of Memories.
They included, from here to there, a smile, a tear, a
giggle, an act of kindness, a gentle touch, an encouraging
word, and a warm embrace. In recent weeks, facing difficult
surgery, she left us the memory of a young woman full of
hope, determination, strength, courage, and faith. Would,
that we all, could leave such memories.
Her wish today, we are certain, would be for us not only to
be strengthened by the memories of her but also to take
comfort in the promise that our common fate is to meet Shelly
again in eternal life.
Until then her love will never die, and her spirit will
forever remain a part of our lives.
These words of an unknown author speak to us for Shelly
today.
``Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep,
I am now the thousands of winds that blow
The glint of diamonds in the snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain,
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft star that shines at night,
So do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there . . . I did not die.''
And so it is with Shelly. She lives forever in our hearts--
until we meet again.
____________________