Alex Richard Ware
March 18, 1987 – May 15, 2006
Alex Richard Ware, artist, lover of animals, poet, writer, thinker of things outside-the-box, one who longed for unity and dreamed of peace, journeyed to the other side on Monday, May 15, 2006. A celebration of his life was held at 4 p.m. Thursday, May 18 at Lake Shore Baptist Church with the Rev. Dorisanne Cooper and Dr. Nathan Stone as celebrants.A celebration party was held immediately following the service at Unitarian Universalist Fellowship of Waco.
Alex was born in Waco on March 18, 1987. The family that loved him and grieve at his going include his mother and stepfather, Pat and Nathan Stone; his father and stepmother, Richard and Roxanne Ware; his aunt, Karen Berger and uncle, Steve McCasland of Homer, Alaska; brothers who grieve his loss are Jason, and wife Amy Ware, and Michael Ware of San Antonio; nieces, McKenna and K’Lee and nephew Jon David Ware will miss their Uncle Alex. Special thanks to his other “brother”, Jonathan and wife Sabrina Moore.
A Celebration of the Life of Alex Ware
May 18, 2006
Dorisanne Cooper
Opening Words and Prayer
God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth should change, though the mountains shake in the heart of the sea; though its waters roar and foam, though the mountains tremble with its tumult. The Lord of hosts is with us. The God of Jacob is our refuge.
We are gathered here today with the strengthening fellowship of family and friends to thank God for the life of Alex Richard Ware. We are gathered as Alex’s family, as his friends, as those who loved him and who love his family.
It’s hard to imagine a more difficult moment than the one we now share, sitting here together at this edge of human understanding, attempting to find answers, attempting to find the right questions in the silence of someone who was precious to us and who is gone. We are altered somehow by what has happened, changed in ways we have yet to understand. Alex’s sudden death has left us reeling and grief-stricken, and our loss is beyond words. His death came too early, too quickly.
And so we gather with our memories both good and difficult, with our pain, with our anger, with our questions and our overwhelming grief. But we are also gathered in gratitude for Alex’s life, and the ways in which he touched various ones here. We even use the word “celebrate” today not to make light of this day or to pretend that it is not profoundly difficult, but to say that we take his life seriously in all its variations. And so, in the midst of our grief, we will hear some songs of special significance, some of which Alex had written about in his journals, one of which was already chosen for this service when yesterday Pat played this music box which hung over Alex’s crib as a baby. She had not remembered that it plays “Over the Rainbow,” a song with even more significance now.
It is our privilege this day to have this service in this building, for this is a place where Alex spent many of his early growing up years. Alex’s Children’s Minister Sharlande Sledge says “from the time he was in the church nursery and Children’s Center, Alex was a whirlwind of energy and life in motion. He never wanted to miss anything—riding in the bike-a-thon, running through sprinklers on the front lawn with his friends, eating at the Children’s Center Thanksgiving Feast, picking squash and potatoes in the church garden, riding to Caritas in the van at Helping Hands, ‘helping’ his mom build the climbing equipment on the playground she helped design.”
On our pulpit here is a patchwork parament, part of a set stitched together from pieces given by church members about ten year’s ago. If you look closely you’ll see a small piece of white jersey knit with a thin blue stripe. It’s the piece 8 year old Alex contributed, with the words penned by Pat, “Alex Ware’s favorite pj’s: He’s had them since he was two; they just keep getting a little shorter.”
Alex’s life was a patchwork of so many emotions. And we are not here to pretend, that life wasn’t difficult for him, that he didn’t have profound struggles through which his family and so many others tried mightily to reach him. But we are also not going to pretend that the way his life ended was what should define him. For this was a young man with a brilliant mind, with a gift for writing, with a connection to the world’s pain.
In many ways Alex longed for the things he often wrote about, things he could not find for himself, four in particular that come up again and again in his writing—peace, love, unity, respect. And in that spirit we honor those strivings this day.
It is our comfort that Alex is not wrestling with his pain anymore, that he has finally found peace. And yet our gratitude that he no longer hurts does not make it okay with us that he is gone. Those are both truths of this day… As it is that God knows and feels our prayers. That God’s unfailing love is with us and with Alex. That God’s promises of hope can be trusted and can take our heaviest leaning as we remember with gratitude and pain Alex’s life today. May God gather us up and grant us strength.
Shall we pray?
God of great compassion,
We bring you our grief this day, our loss, our tears, our heavy hearts at the death of this beloved son, brother and friend. We hold common grief and yet so many individual stories as well. It is our comfort that you meet each of us where we are with what we need. Draw near to each one here that we might find rest in your strength.
God of comfort, in these difficult days make your presence known to Alex’s parents, to Pat, to Richard to Nathan, to Roxanne. In the morning hours when Pat awakens and looks to face the day, meet her there with a whisper of peace. Late at night when Richard is restless, may he have a sense of your comfort and care. Surround Nathan with light in his moments of darkness. Give Roxanne your tender care.
Shower your compassion on Alex’s family—on Jason and Amy, McKenna and K’Lee, on Michael, on Karen and Steve, on Jonathan and Sabrina, and so many other family members and treasured friends. Pour out your love upon each of these now that they might find you companion in their pain. Hold them close to you that they might find strength in your care. And breathe through their lives in the coming days, weeks and years, that on hard days they might know of your love and on good days they might be strengthened for their own living.
Give each of us gathered here, family and friends alike, clear memories of good times with Alex to weave into the patchworks of our lives.
As our joy at having known Alex and our grief at losing him dance their way in and through each other, bring a spirit of strength to us all.
Grant us courage and gentleness and tenderness and peace,
Amen
Closing Words and Benediction
(taken from a poem by Ted Loder and a Native American blessing)
May God’s gracious spirit which moves over the mysteries of living and dying, whose presence is present in budding leaves, in the call of wild geese, in the breaking of bread, in the light in another’s eye and the deep longing which holds so many of us, go with you now. May you be aware of God’s presence so that wonder works its mystery in you, so that passion and peace are released in your living, so that your confidence is renewed, so that you might share laughter and exchange mercy, be at ease in your struggles, bold in your loving, brave in facing down your terror, hopeful in the rising music of Christ’s love in the world, joyful and grace-filled in your living.
May the footprints we each make show that we’ve walked in kindness toward the earth and every living thing. May our lives be a dance and may the wind broadcast peace for all generations to come.