As written by Jeanette Park:
Sam was born on November 23rd, 1924. He died as he lived, with honor and pride. Sam...was my best friend. He gave me the courage to be me and to realize that not all monsters take the shape of something ugly. If not or him...I wouldn't be here today. We grew up in a small town in Maine and he was my escape when things just got to bad. That's just the kind of person he was. Selfless and always taking care of others before himself. We always told him that would be his downfall. He never stopped blaming himself for the death of our dear friend, nor stopped fearing that he would become the monster that everyone made him out to be.
His favorite color was green. Not the dull kind that we all walk on without thinking, he would say, but the one that would scream radioactive. His favorite animal was a raven; for they are beautiful even when surrounded by death. Sam...well to put it lightly was an oddity. He opposed what society told him to be and was honest and true to his values until his last day, a quality that is rare to find in today's society.
Sam was....beyond an outcast when we were children. For a while I refereed to him as "that Wright boy" because that's how he was introduced to us. "He's a monster Jean." They said. We are all monsters in our own mind. We twist and distort the image until it fits the world that we live in. Sam held strong while the world pointed it crooked finger and laughed. If this life downfalls to where we mock people for their beauties, then this is not a life that I want to live.
I like to think that Samuel is now among our passed friends, racing hell like only he knew how to do. He made me into the woman that stands before you today. He touched our souls and forever will be in our hearts. I can hear him now, mocking the sentiment that lays here before him. For him. He always wanted to go down in a blaze of glory, much like all of us dream. "One they'll write novels about" He said.
Samuel died saving my lief. And that is a debt that I will never get to repay.