[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 108 (Thursday, June 29, 1995)]
[Senate]
[Page S9469]
From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov]
EULOGY FOR DEBRA LYNN SIMMONS STULL
Mr. McCONNELL. Mr. President, there is nothing that confounds
our logic and our sense of justice more than life cut short before its
time. And when a person of special character and giftedness dies young,
the loss casts a long shadow over everyone who knew the individual. The
memory never completely recedes into the past, nor do we ever find a
point of comfortable reconciliation with it.
Such is the case with the recent and untimely death of Debra Lynn
Simmons Stull, sister of my director of communications, Kyle Simmons. A
wife, a mother, a sister and a daughter, Debbie had already led a life
that was rich with family bonds, with church service, and with
community involvement. She was so energetic and vibrant that everyone
who knew her naturally expected she would long outlast them all. But
that was not to be. An accident at home suddenly interrupted this
shining life, leaving the many who loved her the difficult task of
sorting it all out.
Debbie's brother Kyle composed a beautiful eulogy for his sister,
which I would like to read into the Record. It tells the story of a
remarkable individual--who was not a person of title or lofty position,
not someone whose name was regulary mentioned on the weekend talk
shows, nor someone who even remotely desired such attention--yet Debbie
Stull lived her life in a way that made the world she inhabited
immeasurably better and that profoundly touched each person she knew.
In this time of mourning, I would like to extend my sympathy to the
Stull and Simmons families. May you find the grace and strength to help
you through this present hardship.
Eulogy for Debbie Stull, June 24, 1995
It doesn't surprise me or my family one bit that the
occasion of my sister Debbie's death has produced such an
outpouring of public support and comfort.
Debbie wasn't neutral or ambivalent about anything--so,
consequently, it was impossible to be neutral or ambivalent
about her. And, in her case, everyone loved her.
She was one of life's active participants. If you were ever
around her, you knew that she engaged you with her smile, her
laugh, her warmth. As my Mom said recently, Debbie came at
life with a balled-up fist--determined to ring from it all
the vitality it could offer. And she did.
For some, emotion is like water collecting behind the wall
of a dam, but for Debbie it was a never ending spring which
flowed freely and would wash over anyone lucky enough to be
nearby. As someone said to me last night at the visitation,
she always made you feel special.
No doubt she touched your lives in many ways. Some of you
will recall her wonderful singing voice. She always loved
music and singing in church was always her favorite.
And let me say to the many children in her choir, Miss
Debbie loved you. Nothing would make her happier than for all
of you to go on singing.
Others may remember her as the always ready volunteer,
ready to pitch in and help. Still others will recall the glow
of her irrepressible smile--she smiled more than any other
person I ever knew. And I'm sure others were on the receiving
end of one of her hugs which said, ``I understand.''
Of course, she touched us, too.
My Dad moved the family in 1952, to St. Petersburg,
Florida, where he began his career as a Baptist minister. Not
yet 30, he and Mom raised Anne, Debbie, and Bob in a world of
real togetherness.
It didn't take Debbie long to make her mark.
In his early childhood, Bob was slightly more interested in
the world that turned inside his head that what was happening
elsewhere. You could call him a dreamer.
Ordinarily, this quality would have marked him as an easy
target for some of the other kids except that Debbie--in
addition to being his sister--was also the neighborhood
enforcer. It was widely known that if you messed with Bob,
you messed with Debbie. And, of course, that fact was enough
to make Bob's interior world safe from harm. Years later, Bob
would remark that Debbie would march through the gates of
Hell for you. And he was right.
Anne and Debbie sang together. When they were teenagers the
task of washing and drying the dishes fell to them. They
didn't seem to mind too much because it gave them chance to
sing hymns. With Anne's rich alto and Debbie's clear soprano,
their voices were beautiful together. As they grew older,
they sang together less and less, but what we wouldn't give
to hear their sisterly voices wrap around each other one more
time in harmony.
Mom and Debbie were best friends. Debbie's social ease and
grace came from Mom. And it was only Debbie who could match
Mom's enthusiasm for shopping.
The last time they were together, they woke at 6 a.m. to
drive three hours to Jacksonville for a day of shopping--nine
full hours worth. Although I've not asked, I have no doubt
the radio was never turned on during that long drive home--
they simply had too much to talk about. With those two, the
apple did not fall from the tree.
All the way to the end, my Dad's nickname for Debbie was
``flea.'' It was his fatherly way, I think, of capturing at
once her boundless energy and how sweet and small and
precious she was to him. Debbie always loved his special name
for her. And it was always with love that he used it.
Anne Kathryn, I don't need to tell you how much your Momma
loved you. You were the light in her life. I cannot recall a
single conversation with your Mom when she didn't tell me how
and what you were doing--and she was always so proud of you.
David, what can be said? We love you. Debbie's life force
was so strong it made us believe she would be here forever,
but we were wrong.
And so we huddle together today to say goodbye to Debra
Lynn Simmons Stull; sister and daughter, mother and wife,
friend and neighbor, partner in song.
We commit her body to the earth, her soul to the heavens--
but her spirit lives on in every last one of us who ever knew
her.
We will miss her very, very much.
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