My Daughter Nicole – A Shining Star
My mother told me that the most painful experience of her life was when she lost her daughter, my sister, Audrey. At the time I thought I understood her pain. But I really didn’t. Only now that I’ve lost a child can I appreciate the depth of the pain she felt.
But you know, when my heart aches and the tears begin swelling in my eyes, I remember something my mother said – “Son, in every cloud there’s a silver lining” -- certainly not an original bit of advice but sound and comforting nonetheless.
The cloud hanging over Nicole’s passing is as dark as the weather was during her final days. A beautiful and talented young woman dies in her prime, barely a year after being married and less than a month after giving birth to their child. How can there be light in such darkness?
Well, there is. My mother was right. You just have to look for it. And that’s what I’ve been doing. It’s been a struggle but hopefully some of what I’ve found will be helpful to you as it’s been for me.
The silver lining in Nicole’s cloud is as bright as any star. After all, that’s what Nicole was -- a shining star – and we all should feel fortunate to have known her, to have been touched by her in some way. And I should, and I do, feel fortunate and privileged to have been her father.
Like a star, my daughter was radiant. Stunning. Wholesomely beautiful. The quintessential high school prom queen.
Like a star, Nicole was bright. Not just intellectually. Sure she finished near the top of her high school class and graduated from one of our nation’s finest universities. But more importantly, she brightened the day for whomever she met. It didn’t matter who you were – doorman, CEO, security guard, dog walker, or Hollywood star. She didn’t care if you lived on Water Street or High Street, if she met you at the Hogpit downtown or at Sarbeth’s uptown. She connected with you, with everyone. She appreciated the underappreciated, a trait of my daughter’s that I admired greatly. She could make you feel like the most important person in the world, especially when she looked you in the eye and said, “You’re the best”. She made you feel like a star. How many people in the world can make you feel that way? Well, my daughter could.
Like a star, Nicole was magnetic with a gravitational pull that was amazing. During her incredibly happy high school years in Newburyport, her magnetism at times was overwhelming for her mother and me and, no doubt, for our son, Pete. Our house on High Street was like Grand Central Station or Piccadilly Circus. No surprise that her classmates chose her to be their Senior Class President.
When I look for that silver lining I know that my daughter, my shining star, genuinely enjoyed life to the fullest. If not, she sure fooled me. She saw much of the world, had a zest for life, a joie de vivre that was contagious. She laughed easily, made others laugh with her sharp wit, and genuinely embraced the fruits of life, from a juicy pear to a Simon and Garfunkel concert.
When I look for that silver lining, I see a daughter who gave us a lesson on how to face the worst with dignity. She was increibly brave. Sure she was afraid. If dealt the same cards, who wouldn’t be afraid? But she fought through that fear, took charge of her care for as long as she could and fought valiantly to preserve the life she so cherished. I am espeically proud of my daughter’s strength of character during her final days. Almost to the very end she would say “OK – I’m going to lick this thing”. I don’t think she ever gave up.
When I look for the silver lining I think of the women who she inspired in their battles to overcome physical adversity. Wonderful women like Corinne and Kim whom you’ve heard from today.
Finally, when I look for the silver lining in that dark cloud, I see a young woman who finally achieved two of her fondest dreams – that of marrying a man she loved and with him having a child.
Nicole’s expectations for the men in her life were exceptionally high. Just ask any of us. However, she finally found the man of her dreams, the proverbial “knight in shining armor”. She had to travel all the way to Paris to find him. And, perhaps not coincidentally, his name was Knight – Andrew Knight.
With respect to her other dream, that of having a child, well, that, too, was realized. On September 22nd, just one month ago, Nicole gave birth to a beautiful little girl, Sophia Lily. Oh, she’s already a star just like her mom. You can see the brightness in her stunningly beautiful blue eyes. Sophia is the ultimate in silver linings; Nicole’s legacy – a glistening treasure that will brighten lots of rooms and hearts in the years to come.
Thank you all for being here to celebrate my daughter’s life. Your presence adds to the silver lining. As Nicole would say, “You’re the best”.
Delivered October 22, 2005 at the Frank E. Campbell Chapel in New York.
My Sister Nicole – Basking in Her Shadow
Thank you everyone for this outpouring of love and support for Nicole, Andrew, Sophia and rest of our family and friends. Her magnetic presence was felt at any event she attended. I’m feeling her; so she must be here today.
As Nicole’s younger brother, I have a unique perspective on my big sister, given I was born 23 months after her. In many ways, I felt like I was born in her shadow. I followed her lead; she paved the way, like many older sisters do for younger brothers…but Nicolini was not any ordinary big sister.
I remember entering my 5th grade class on the first day of school at the Nock Middle School in Newburyport. I went up to Mrs. Morgan, my new teacher at this new school, and introduced myself. ‘I’m Peter Lemieux.’ I slurred the pronunciation of my own last name. But Mrs. Morgan, her eyebrows raised, had no problem deciphering it, “Oh, you must be Nicole’s little brother,’ she said. ‘Yes,’ I said, feeling a tinge of pride and comfort knowing my big sister had already warmed my arrival.
Nicole had hit it off with Mrs. Taranda. Mrs. Taranda was Nicole’s ‘favorite’ teacher, and Nicole was Mrs. Taranda’s ‘favorite’ student. By year-end, I hadn’t changed that feeling. Mrs. Taranda liked me, but she loved Nicole…and Nicole loved her. Sixth grade with Mrs. Robinson followed, and, within minutes of settling into my new seat, same story. Despite three school years between Nicole and me, Mrs. Robinson’s impression of Nicole was indelible. Surprise, surprise…she adored Nicole. Seventh grade with Mr. Kyrios, … Eighth grade with Mr. Marshall, repeat performances.
I was still too young or too dimwitted to see any pattern emerging, but my parents couldn’t miss it. Nicole had moved on to Newburyport High and was tearing up the world there – senior class president, prom queen, top student. They realized quickly that Nicolini was blazing one hell of a trail and leaving no earth in town unturned. Following in Nicole’s footsteps or, more specifically, in her shadow was nearly impossible.
So when the time came for me to go to high school, my parents had no choice. They had to ship me out of town to find my own way and cast my own shadow.
Many people think living in ‘another’s shadow’ as a negative thing, and I get that. But I took great pride being Nicole’s kid brother. It was obvious that Nicole made a special mark on anyone she met and I quickly deduced that that was a good thing for me. She was special so I must be special. She was liked by so many, so I figured I must be liked. She was smart so I must be smart. She was a star, so damnit, I just might be a star. As odd as it may sound, I basked in her shadow.
Then for 10 years, our lives marched on independently. I went to high school to carve out my own identity and Nicole headed off to U Penn. When I went to college, Nicole graduated and moved to New York. I settled in San Francisco post-college, while Nicole jumped from New York to Paris and back to New York. Only during holidays and vacations together were we able to catch up.
Throughout these years, Nicole blossomed -- utterly fearless, open to life’s opportunities, full of enthusiasm and spreading joy. From Olivia Newton John to J Geils Band to Rod Stewart to Madonna to Victoria Williams to Simon & Garfunkel to Madonna to Tom Jones to Johnny Cash and back to Madonna (Madonna never went out of style with Nicole), the soundtrack of Nicole’s life - full of variety, pace, emotion and spice - played on. And WOW, she did groove to it.
So while the tracks changed, the incredible mark she left on those she encountered never did. People responded to her energy, warmth and zest. But now, it wasn’t just me and the town of Newburyport who basked in her shadow. It was a much wider audience with lots of groupies. Nicole was performing on the grand stage.
In 1998, our lives came together again in Newburyport to care for my mom during her illness. It was an incredibly tough 13 months, but through it all, Nicole and I were partners, like never before. Sure, we vented on each other and tested one another plenty, but in the big picture we comforted and showered love on my mom through to her last day. We were proud of how we managed together. We were a team…a strong team.
Through it all, I came to know Nicole beyond the mystique that was my big sister. I came to know her as an individual with so many very special qualities. Her quick wit was sharp and precise, and always timely. Her quest to come to terms with the fate immediately facing my mom was tireless. I admired how she poured through a stack of books on death and dying, faith and afterlife. She faced the difficult moments with courage. She exhibited true grace under pressure. And she buoyed my mom’s spirits, orchestrating the tempo of our lives like a master conductor. Nicole knew so well how to read people and make them feel great about themselves. She was delicate yet strong, emotional yet unflinching, beautiful and hopeful throughout. I appreciated her not just for how she presented herself to the outside world, but for what she was made of on the inside.
There are many little things I will miss dearly about my Nicolini,…
I will miss her sharing stories filled with laughter and tears about my mom, stories only Nicole could know, and so often, stories only Nicole could tell in her inimitable fashion.
I will miss her morning emails telling me all she had accomplished, or not accomplished, before I’d even awaken on the West Coast.
I will miss her throwing Horatio’s little red ball in the park, making friends with every dog owner in the vicinity and leaving a smile on their every face. Before long, Nicole would know each owner’s life secrets and dirty pleasures.
I will miss her and Maryann rolling in conversation and leaving a string of laughs in their wake.
I will miss receiving a tattered package plastered with dozens of odd stamps on the outside with a cool shirt enclosed. She hoped to keep me hip.
I will miss meeting the newest stranger to enter Nicole’s life telling me how amazing my sister is.
And I will miss seeing her become the caring mother to Sophia she always wanted to be and would have been.
I will miss her.
Over the past week, I have reflected hard on Nicole’s life. I’ve felt tormented in trying to come to grips with the harsh reality of this loss. I’ve lost my big sister who paved the way for me in so many ways.
But being here and seeing all of you today is a fresh reminder that Nicolini, with her larger-than-life personality, is still at it – still casting that shadow and still paving the way, not just for me, but for all of us. There’s no doubt in my mind, right now, she’s hitting it off with gatekeepers, the doormen, the security guards and head honchos wherever she is…, and warming the place for our arrival when we join her.
Delivered October 22, 2005 at The Mark Hotel, New York