Eulogy….

This is not supposed to be happening.But it is.

But for the next three minutes, if you will permit me, I need to pretend this all is a bad dream.

Patrick Dixon Bice Byrne,The Dixon was for me and Pat’s grandfather, James Dixon. The Patrick was for his great grandfather, James Patrick.

His was proud to carry the Bice name in honor of his mother and so many. PDBB, A good son. A good brother. A good grandson. A good uncle. A good cousin. A good nephew. A soon to be good godfather. And A good friend, to so many.

Yet Patrick had his challenges. But don’t we all. Sometimes he would choose a road less taken. But don’t we all. He had his demons..But don’t we all.

Patrick was like all of us, a human being.We try. We struggle. We live. We help others. We succeed. We fail. Let me tell you a true story that I realize now symbolizes my beloved son, Patrick.

Patrick was always good at sports. Once you got him out of bed and on the field he would always excel…When he was about 7 he played lacrosse in Manhasset. His team was Blue. They were losing and needed to score.

During this one game he caught a pass and headed downfield to the opposing teams goal.He was graceful. He avoided the first line of defense with ease and slipped into scoring territory twirling his upright stick and zig sagging like a pro….But quickly the opposition descended upon him….we all cheered for the effort by this wonderful boy on the field …but inevitably, the red shirts went after him, first one then two and soon they swarmed around him, poking at him, then chopping…he would not stop, he would not give in, he used all his strength to withstand the blows….for as long as he could…but they hacked and hacked at him until he just slowly disappeared – a sinking blue shirt within the waves of red to the green grass below.

My belief is that we never fully understood the power of this boy or this man.

I believe his desire to please exceeded ours. I believe his fear of letting people down was crippling to him. He was an artist in our midst.With a heart so big and a soul so deep, that his demons found refuge in places where they could not be permanently extracted, only temporarily subdued.

They say the good die young. I say the hurt die first.

Patrick Dixon Bice Byrne.

He had wonderful days.

Patrick was a lifesaving elixir to so many.

He could fix you with a smile. If he was close, you felt better immediately.When he laughed you grew younger. He gave us… himself. Patrick was a gift. To each of us, a gift that made each of us feel special…better…complete.

He struggled too hard to be that gift. The lacrosse sticks finally took their toll. How many of us could have withstood those blows for so long?

We cheered for him then. We cheered for him every day.

We cheer for him now.

And we will cheer for him forever.