I am unable to speak about my mother today, it is too soon and quite frankly just to difficult.

But I know it would be her wish that I use this opportunity today to speak for her and for our family.

The events of this past year are simply indescribable, needless to say, our lives have been forever changed. Yet, throughout this unimaginable ordeal, my mother and this family have never been alone in its battles and we know we are not alone now as we try to heal.

About a week ago I discovered a large black bag behind the sofa in the living room. The bag was filled with boxes of note-cards (plain and fancy), postcards she had picked up in Big Sur and a box of Christmas cards. What was so unusual about my discovery was that every single post card had been addressed and stamped, yet, not one note had been written.

It became immediately obvious to me that my mother had found it difficult, if not impossible, to express in word her thoughts and profound gratitude to those who were so dedicated to her.

As I stand before you this morning, with the same task in my heart, I know exactly how she felt.

There really are no words to adequately express our deep appreciation for everything that has been done.

The hundreds of cards, phone calls, and e-mails provided almost a daily reminder to my mother that someone out there was thinking of her.

The flowers, books, articles, food, angels, artwork, seashells… just the hundreds of tokens of affection, provided incredible strength and support to all of us.

I know the prayer chains have circled the globe, that there are people out there who have chanted themselves hoarse. And as my dad likes to put it, people who have just about burned down this city with candles.

There is no way I could stand here and go through all the individuals and all the acts of kindness. But never doubt that whatever your contribution might have been it sustained her hope and it filled her heart…know that you made a difference.