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Beth A. Quigley
Class of 1997
The
following remembrance of Beth
Quigley '97 was written by her
sister, Suzanne Quigley.
 So
many people have approached me over the past few weeks lamenting, "I
don't know what to say." Words certainly do seem inadequate. My
greatest fear in talking to you today is that the words I
find will not sufficiently describe all that was Beth.
As a sister and my only sibling, we shared a bond strengthened
by loyalty, trust, respect, friendship, laughter, and, above
all, love. I was two years old when Beth came into this world,
and I shamefully admit that I wasn't completely thrilled.
Like any good older sibling, I gave her a fair share of sisterly
abuse. My parents often describe a scene where Beth, at four
years of age, finally fed up with my antics, took a good
portion of the neck of my shirt in her tiny fist and bounced
me off the kitchen wall several times. Shocking as this was,
I think I began to understand an essential component of Beth's
character-courage.
When I became a "big girl" and went to kindergarten,
Beth insisted on getting dressed up and carrying a lunch
box, too-even if it was just to walk me to the bus stop.
She always anxiously awaited my arrival home and greeted
me with, "'Zanne, teach me, teach me!" This, of
course, led to that inevitable day that many of you still
remember. Her first day of school involved her accosting
every student in the class with, "Hi, I'm Beth, and
I can read." The smallest child in the class, she was,
nevertheless, big on intimidation.
We became teenagers and engaged in all the usual strife
that this entails. Brand new driver's license in hand, we
set out for, where else, the mall, only to find that we had
left our sisterly love at home that day. That's when I decided
it was time to leave Beth stranded outside of Macy's. More
recently, we found ourselves in a similar situation and,
jarring me from the flashback, Beth yelled, "What are
you gonna do, leave me here?"! Some things you never
live down.
As with most relationships, our bond grew stronger as we
became adults. We shared our thoughts, celebrated accomplishments,
commiserated when necessary, and supported each other in
all endeavors. Her unquenchable thirst for knowledge and
adventure led Beth to spend her junior year of college in
Spain. She immersed herself in the culture, became fluent
in the language, traveled throughout Europe, and discovered
a tasty little drink called a "tinto." The recipe
for this delightful concoction made it back to the States,
and we enjoyed them regularly, especially Friday nights at
the beach. Although I missed her terribly while she was abroad,
my visit with her in Spain was memorable, and the letters
she sent, full of hysterical events and observations, as
only she could relate them, will forever be my treasure.
An astoundingly short three and a half weeks ago, the life
I lived ceased to exist. I have been, at times, numb, confused,
grief-stricken, angry, inconsolable, exhausted, distracted
and, in general, nothing much like myself. That said, certain
things have become very clear to me about my sister, and
they are, quite simply, these:
- Beth was better at being a true friend than most people
could ever dream to be. She touched more people's lives
on a consistent basis than seems fathomable.
- She loved her job and the people she worked with, which
is much more than most can say.
- Her capacity to give love was immeasurable. That love
is felt by all of us here today as well as by many who
could not be here.
- She almost never missed a good time (unless she was studying
for the GMATs).
- When she smiled, it made you feel part of her warmth.
- When she laughed, you were compelled to join her.
- She could just as easily get you back as give you a shoulder
to cry on.
- Her life was full and she had no regrets.
- She was incredibly happy.
Earlier, I confessed to you that my words might not live
up to the task before me today. So I defer to those of the
eloquent James Baldwin, who wrote:
"I know we often lose, and that the death or destruction
of another is infinitely more real and unbearable than one's
own. I think I know how many times one has to start again,
and how often one feels that one cannot start again. And
yet, on pain of death, one can never remain where one is
... It is a mighty heritage, it is the human heritage, and
it is all there is to trust ...This is why one must say YES
to life and embrace it wherever it is found-and it is found
in terrible places; nevertheless, there it is; and if the
father can say, "Yes, Lord," the child can learn
that most difficult of words, "Amen."
Beth emphatically said yes, and so must we. In so doing,
we perpetuate a life and a spirit that can never be extinguished
nor forgotten.
* * * The following remembrance of Beth Quigley was written
by Lukie Jovel '97
I can't imagine a more striking character than Beth Quigley.
Whether she had you in stitches with one of her one-liners,
was relentlessly defending something or someone she believed
in, or was simply making you a bowl of tomato soup with macaroni
elbows on a cold day, you couldn't help but be captivated
by just watching her go ...
I wanted to tell you some great stories that captured why
she was so amazing. But when I tried to put them on paper,
I realized there were no words to describe most of the things
I've been thinking about lately and why she was our best
friend.
They were just little tokens I was privy to as the person
who shared her home.
I loved the way she hopped around the apartment ... dancing
with that sassy little flamenco flair she picked up in Spain
... She's the only person I've ever seen who can keep up
with Gabe on a dance floor. And I've seen a lot of people
try.
I'd smile to myself when I'd see her at the kitchen table
filling out a birthday card for a friend she hadn't spoken
to in a while. But she wanted to let them know how much she
cared.
I smiled every Wednesday I came home from work and would
find her in the kitchen, preparing some elaborate recipe
she downloaded from William-Sonoma.com, simply because it
was Wednesday, and that was "Date Night with Ivan."
I laughed when she would relentlessly complain about the
funny bumps on the back of her heel because all I or anyone
else could ever see were 10 perfectly shaped little toes
dressed up in pale pink polish.
I loved the excitement on her face when she opened up a
Halloween or Valentine's Day package from her parents, because
she genuinely looked forward to the adorable holiday socks
her mother picked out for her every year.
I smile when I think of her wearing her Yankees cap; forwards
for everyday, and backwards when she was on a mission and
ready to take care of some business.
The bottom line is that Beth made life better.
Without Beth it will be very easy for all of us to feel
as if:
we'll never laugh or cry as hard again,
feel as challenged and alive again,
feel as safe,
or feel as special as she made us feel.
But, the truth is that because of Beth:
we did laugh that hard,
we did cry that hard,
we did feel that alive,
and we will always be that special ...
And those are things that this world can never take away.
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