First, I would like to thank the entire Birchler family for allowing me the honor to speak with you today—one of the most difficult days in all of our lives. I, like everyone else here, share in a special, unique bond. A bond that only a select few of us—those of us who knew and loved Bill--had the privilege to a part of. We are the lucky ones.

As a close friend of Bill’s, I have the awesome task of distilling my 18 years of friendship into a few short minutes and also giving voice to Bill’s entire family of friends who are here in both body and spirit. As someone once said, "Friends are the family we choose." And so we are all here together as both—friends and family.

I first met Bill back in 1986 as a sophomore at The Ohio State University. That’s why Andy and I wear these ties, a symbol of friendship forged during a time when I came to know and become who I am; a time when Bill accepted me for who I am. Despite my Belgian citizenship, my over-sized glasses and the fact that I needed hair intervention, Bill was still willing to hang out with a guy like me. That says a lot about him.

As a true friend, Bill has been there for all the major rites of passage in my life. He loaned me his car in college when I just had to go visit this gal. He proudly took me to Sylvania to show off his hometown and introduce me to his family and friends. I saw miles and mountains of this great country of ours through the window of a car as he showed me the U.S.A. he loved. He helped celebrate my marriage to one of his "girls" from Sylvania, but only after I received his blessing. It is by these and countless other acts of friendship, kindness, and generosity that Bill offered to all of us, that I will remember him most fondly.

Bill is also one of those classy guys that you like for your parents to meet. On any other occasion, Bill could be just like the other fellas. But when it came to showing respect to a friend’s family, you could always count on Bill to make you look good. He was like our good-will ambassador who could assuage every parent’s and older sibling’s fear that their kid was up to no-good. I’ve always been proud to see Bill interact so graciously with my folks because I know that it reflects well on me. After all, a friend of Bill’s can’t be all that bad.

You will all be glad to know that in the end, Billy was pure Billy. Just before one of his daily sponge baths, Bill warned his nurse, "Hey! Nothing wet and wild, OK?"

Bill still knew how to make the girls blush.

When Andy got a little over zealous with the bed controls and nearly folded Bill in half, Billy yelled, "Hey man! I’m not Leo Buscaglia. I’ve got a spine!" I just about fell over.

Bill still knew how to make the guys laugh.

I saw Bill’s spirit shine through when his body failed him. This was his greatest gift to me—to make me truly believe that we all have spirits that shine on long after we have gone.

Bill still knew how to show his love.

I’d now like to ask you to turn to your programs where you’ll find a short poem entitled "For William J. Birchler." Please follow along as I read this aloud.

On behalf of Bill, Andy & I want all of our friends to know that Bill received and appreciated all of the kind thoughts you sent his way. We can tell you from being there with Bill that your good wishes lifted his spirits and, as he said, breathed new life into him.