Thank you all for being here today. I promise I will pause for bathroom breaks and drink refills.

 

I've spent weeks trying to figure out what I wanted to say today, and the truth is, I still don't know if there are words big enough.

 

How do you summarize twenty years with a person who was your entire world?

 

How do you explain what it feels like to lose the person you've spent nearly half your life loving?

 

The truth is, I can't.

 

What I can do is tell you about Sean.

 

The Sean that I was lucky enough to love for almost twenty years.

 

Sean was my home.

 

And I know that sounds like one of those things people say, but it's true. No matter where we lived, no matter what was happening in our lives, home wasn't a place. It was wherever he was.

 

It was sitting together watching Star Trek, Mystery Science Theater 3000, Ghosts, or ANY of his favorite haunted shows for the thousandth—and sometimes ten-thousandth—time.

 

It was hearing him erupt into laughter from another room.

 

It was him asking me to come look at whatever he had just finished printing.

 

Or put it together.

 

Or magnetize it.

 

He REALLY loved a good 3D printed box with magnetic closures.

 

It was the million little moments that don't seem important until suddenly they're the things you miss most.

 

Sean cared about people more deeply than almost anyone I've ever known.

 

Sometimes more deeply than he probably should have.

 

People trusted him. They confided in him. They sought him out when they needed advice, comfort, reassurance, or just someone to listen. He had this amazing ability to make people feel seen.

 

No matter what was happening in his own life, he always made room for other people.

 

If I stand up here and only talk about how kind and empathetic Sean was, some of you are going to think I never really knew him.

 

Because Sean was also snarky as hell.

 

He loved making people laugh.

 

He loved teasing people.

 

And he absolutely loved striking fear into the souls of his victims.

 

In fact, if Sean liked you, there was a very good chance he was going to tease you. I can attest that the more he loved you, the more intense the teasing got.

 

Sean could say the most ridiculous thing with such a straight face that for a few seconds you weren't sure if he was serious. Then he'd crack that smile, and you'd know exactly what he was doing.

 

He found joy in making people laugh, and I think that's one of the reasons people loved being around him.

 

His laugh was contagious.

 

And if you ever got him laughing so hard he turned multiple shades of red and purple, you knew you'd accomplished something special.

 

Sean loved a lot of things.

 

He loved learning.

 

He could be found often looking up the definition of a word he just read or heard because he NEEDED to know what it meant and how he could incorporate it into his lexicon.

 

From a very young age, he had a deep love for animals.

 

He loved our furry babies.

 

He loved horses. Horse back riding was one of his greatest joys in life, we got to take many trail rides together, and even got to go horse back swimming.

 

He loved creating things and showing off what he'd made.

 

Sean loved a good party. The immortal words of Hetty Woodstone ring too true for Sean, "That man sparkled at a dinner party.” Of course those words where meant for Seamus, If you know, you know.

 

Sean could walk into a room and somehow make everyone feel comfortable. He could make strangers feel like friends and friends feel like family.

 

I can't talk about the things Sean loved without talking about Star Trek.

 

Sean didn't just watch Star Trek. He lived Star Trek.

 

He loved the stories, the optimism, and the belief that people can be better tomorrow than they are today.

 

Nobody embodied that for him more than Dr. Beverly Crusher.

 

Sean often said Dr. Crusher was the reason he fell in love with medicine in the first place and ultimately became an EMT. One of the things he was most proud of was having the opportunity to meet her several times and tell her that himself.

 

And because Sean was Sean, he always insisted he would never rank higher than Commander within Starfleet because he refused to outrank Dr. Crusher.

 

Commander Sean D. Young, Chief Medical Officer, is exactly how he will be remembered.

 

Then there was Star Wars.

 

Sean spent years on his own Jedi path and eventually earned the title of Jedi Master.

 

And honestly, it suited him.

 

Because at his core, Sean believed in empathy.

 

He believed in helping people.

 

He believed in kindness.

 

And that's how he moved through the world.

 

The thing I keep coming back to over and over these past weeks is how lucky I was.

 

Not because I got enough time.

 

Twenty years wasn't enough.

 

A hundred years wouldn't have been enough.

 

But I was lucky because I got those twenty years at all.

 

I got the late-night conversations.

 

The adventures.

 

The vacations.

 

The inside jokes.

 

The arguments over absolutely ridiculous things.

 

The movie nights.

 

The endless Star Trek.

 

The ordinary days that seemed unremarkable at the time but now feel priceless.

 

I got to build a life with him.

 

I got to love him.

 

And more importantly, I got to be loved by him.

 

That is a gift I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

 

I miss him every single day.

 

I suspect I always will.

 

But when I look around this room, I also see something beautiful.

 

I see how many lives Sean touched.

 

I see how many people carry a piece of him with them.

 

I see proof that love doesn't disappear.

 

It stays.

 

In our stories.

 

In our memories.

 

In our laughter.

 

In the ways we continue to love each other because of what someone taught us.

 

Sean taught so many of us how to be better versions of ourselves.

 

So today, I ask that you don't simply mourn him.

 

Instead, remember him.

 

Tell the stories.

 

Laugh a lot.

 

Share the memories.

 

Talk about the ridiculous things he did.

 

Celebrate the life he lived.

 

Because if Sean were here right now, I know he would be judging everyone who is too sad, as well as those he didn't feel were sad enough.

 

And he'd definitely have something snarky to say about this speech.

 

Sean, I love you. I miss you.

 

Thank you for being my home.

 

Thank you for sliding me your number that first night at Club ICON.

 

And thank you for twenty incredible years.

 

May the Force be with you. Always.

 

One thing Sean would want you all to remember when life feels like it's trying to break you, understand the words of Captain Jean-Luc Picard: "There are FOUR lights!".

 

If that doesn't make sense to you, you have some homework for tonight.