Scott's eulogies and service

Thank you, Rabbi. This is not easy. We are here to honor and celebrate Scott's life. I'm sure you can appreciate how difficult this is for Joan, Barbara, and me. It's not supposed to be this way. He was special, and a lot of times we say people are special, but he truly was. It's so many different areas, as you all know. His friends, his family, his Israeli veterans, clients who all became friends. One came up from Virginia to be with us today in many travel hours to get here.

He's so respected that, with over 400 or 500 people in this room, my job is to tell you about a few things that you all don't know. He reminded us he was always a fighter, born only four and a half pounds. He grew up to be a successful, physically strong, mentally strong man, and leader. He fought the worst possible cancer for 12 months, which wasn't supposed to be as long, and he did everything possible he could. Growing up, he was a very good athlete.

You may know that if you ever played tennis or golf, we spent many hours playing tennis and golf together. Mostly as a tennis player growing up, that wasn't much of a golfer. He became number one in Rockland County to see me as he was the top. At George Washington University, he was the only non-scholarship walk-on player on the team. And he played every match. Highlight for me was when he was 14, we won the local Westchester-Rockland father-son tennis tournament together, and advanced to Forest Hills.

In those days, Forest Hills was the location of the U.S. Open. Unfortunately, he couldn't carry me enough and we ended up playing a nationally-ranked team. I think maybe we won one game, maybe got a few points. As far as golf goes, it gave us a wonderful opportunity to spend countless hours together. We played often, traveled across the country, playing some of the best golf courses with family, Jared, Jesse, and other family members. We especially loved Pebble Beach. We played there as often as we could, which was many times.

So I'll always remember those trips, they'll always be a memory and part of me. As far as career upon graduation became a CPA, with the goal of eventually being a financial planner and our being in business together. I actually reminded this morning when Dennis came up to me and gave me a hug that I guess I had a plan for him when he was 10 years old, 11 years old.

I had a plan for him when he was 10 or 11 years old because he used to go to all the giant games with Dennis and Nico and Dennis and Nico was the most successful financial planner we knew and I think that influence was super positive for Scott and I'm forever grateful for that. On graduation became a CPA with the goal of eventually being a financial planner and our being in business together It worked out. He not only got a job at a CPA firm But as a bonus, he met Pam's sister Leslie there who introduced them.

It was love at first sight and it hasn't changed since. He came into business with us, we worked together for 30 years, and eventually it became a third-generation business. Traveling, doing seminars, meeting with clients was truly special; we were able to spend so much time together and share so many good memories. I will never take for granted how rare it was for me to have that time with Scott, so many trips, so many seminars. I remember one uncomfortable moment for him.

We were doing seminars for the Jewish Federation, and they introduced us as the brothers Krim. I think he was going to, I think he was going to crawl under the table in front of the client and the audience. John and I have seven children. I've always had a close relationship. They're extraordinary close with Scott, and our grandchildren. Pam and Scott have four special, loving children, who are with wonderful spouses or significant others, and three grandchildren.

Last week, when Scott was fading, there were a couple memorable moments that we'll forever remember. We had a symbolic wedding by the rabbi for Jillian and Ben, which was wonderful. And then another memorable moment was when his oldest grandson, one of the apples of his eye, who was only three and a half, came over, gave Poppy a hug, and Scott smiled and said, high five. You'll learn much more about Scott as you meet his children and Joan and our children, a closing thought.

His doctor told us, when we spoke to him last week, we won't need to go to heaven to see Scott. Scott will bring heaven down to us. Every time I think of a rainbow and I see a rainbow, I'm going to see Scott. I'm grateful for the time we've had. He'll always be remembered in our hearts and loved by all of us.

We would like to start off today by saying we are honored and privileged to be a part of the service, and to be able to speak in Scott's memory today. In 1983, at the Hudson House Restaurant in New York, Scott's dad rich and our mom Joan were married. It was just us seven kids and the happy couple. It was impossible to predict where life would lead us after that day. But what happened was nothing short of a remarkable journey for a newly married couple hoping to achieve what some might say was impossible.

We know we are dating ourselves with this reference, but it was truly the real-life version of the Brady Bunch. Two worlds suddenly collided under one roof, and we give you this background knowledge because Scott, the eldest, was already in college at this time, and the three of us don't have stories of growing up with him. However, our perspective starts at a different stage in his life. We never fought in the backseat of the station wagon over who controlled which cartoon on which Saturday morning.

He was already a man when we admittedly called our step brother, but at some point, over the course of time, that didn't feel right any longer, and the step came out and he just became our brother. Characters revealed over time and is defined by how one treats others, how they show up for family, how they face challenges, and how they leave people feeling after they are gone. Either gone from a conversation or in this instance, gone from the world, we all know, but on to the next.

We remember a man whose presence mattered because his character revealed all of these things. He was the focal point for organizing family gatherings and always welcomed you into his home in a way that said you belong here. Literally seeking each person out to say hello. Our family is spread across the country, so time would pass between catch ups, but he would always ask you in a way how you were doing that was genuine and real. In all honesty, we often forgot that we actually had no relation to Pam's side of the family because he made us feel like one.

He was loving, kind, compassionate, and worked to always bring out the best in others, even when there was nothing at stake for him. Scott's success was undeniable, but every fiber of his success was matched with the same degree of generosity from the simple task of bringing pizza home for everyone to hosting Israeli veterans in his home every year. He had a zest for living, active, and adventurous, and frankly, an outlook on life that we would all be lucky to have a small fraction of.

His fight was simply stated, one of the most inspiring battles we have ever witnessed. And although some may view the war as lost, there are many who do not believe that is the case. When we listened to his doctor speak to the family and to Scott in his final days, he repeated over and over again that Scott was not ascending to heaven. Rather, heaven was coming down to him. It is a deliberate movement where God comes down and says, I want you because you are needed. So to sum it up, although Scott's piano may be gone, his song will play on.

His impact will endure, and his work is not done. Scott, you will remain in our heart always. We love you. And then my mom, Joan, wrote a letter to Scott. Scott, our transition into a friendship and love took a while. You were the oldest of our clan. As the years went by, we started to trust and love each other. I knew that I would never replace your mother, however, something else happened to me. I grew to love and respect you as a son, person, and a great manch. It has been an honor to have had you in our family.

Such wisdom, caring, and integrity, all these words are true. Pam has been a blessing to you and to us. Four great children that we adore and love. We are brokenhearted that you were taken from us too early in life. You showed the world what we all should be. We will miss you every day for the rest of our lives. Love, Joan.

Wow, this is really difficult. Words cannot describe everyone's pain. It'll be relentless forever. I was five years younger, which meant I spent most of my childhood chasing Scott, but following him around, watching him wanting nothing more than to make him proud. That's what little sisters do. He was my inspiration to be a better athlete, to build a career I was proud of, and to be a great mom. He may not have always known it, but he shaped much of who I am. I became because he was. I used to follow him and his friends everywhere.

They had their certain way about them. Cool, confident. They fold their arms in a particular way. That I thought was the greatest thing I'd ever seen. I trail right behind them, mimicking them. Every move and every so often, Scott would look back. I just glanced with a special flicker in his eye. He knew I was there. He always knew. And that flicker told me everything I needed to know. Even when he wasn't home, he was always teaching me. Scott would leave for work.

I'd go in his room and put on his alums, vinyl, Chicago's, super tramp, squeezed Steve Miller van, and I'd sit with him for hours. I would just listen. I observed every word, every note. His music became my music. His taste became part of who I am. He graduated went to college and built a life. Big, full, beautiful life. Life, I'm sorry, a big, full, beautiful life, a wife and kids, and a family that filled every room. We didn't get enough time together. After that, life pulled us to different coasts, different rhythms, but that love never moved.

We played pickleball together for more times than I can count. And every one of those games I'll keep close. I can golf now too, Scott. You never got to see that. I wish we had that realm together. Ever since I saw him a few days ago, I find myself making rhymes. I don't know where they come from. They just survive usually in the quiet hours, usually at five in the morning when the world is still, and he feels close to me. I think he unlocked something in me, even in the end, maybe especially at the end. This is such a blow, but I know you had to go.

Your time was near, but you continued to persevere. That was Scott, right until the end. I promise to keep this family tight. Just like always, they'll be reunions. For the last, I don't know, 15, 20 years, I've been putting cousins reunions together. And now I'll include you all, family, whoever wants to be there is welcome. They'll be laughter, they'll be stories about him, every single one. Well, I spent my whole life looking up to Scott, and now I'll just look up for him.

Scott was my brother, best friend, business partner, and father figure, all rolled into one. Like Lauren, I looked up to Scott and wanted to be just like him. Well, I inherited some of his traits, a great singing voice and good hand-eye coordination were not among them. It's true. That didn't stop me from following in his footsteps to George Washington University or attending Camp White Oaks, Sleepboy Camp, where Scott worked as the tennis coach. And of course, was Uber popular there.

So my favorite childhood memories involved hanging out in the tree house in our backyard on Angus Lane, turning our basement into a haunted house, and performing with our cousins on Long Island as if we were starring in a Broadway show. My bedroom was always right down the hall from Scott's, and whenever I had a nightmare, I was afraid to sleep by myself. I would sneak into his room. He pulled out his extra bed.

He had a bed, like a trundle bed or whatever you call it, that he'd pull out, pop up into another bed right next to his, and he'd make room for me. Inevitably, Lauren would get scared too and come sleep with us. That is until my father heard us and came in to send us back to our rooms. Despite our seven-year-age difference, Scott and I shared many of the same interests, and we were both entrepreneurs at heart. I could always count on Scott to join me in a new business venture, whether it was to kill a brand or a formerly erasing team.

No matter where our conversations began, they always found their way back to what mattered most to him, family. As a devoted husband and father, Scott would inevitably ask if I was dating anyone, and when I was finally going to settle down. I could go on for hours about the impact Scott had on my life, but I'll simply say this. Scott was my hero, my role model, and the best big brother anyone could ever ask for. I love you, Scott. Scott was 14 years older than me, which meant I grew up looking up to him in every sense.

He was bigger than life, even before I understood what that meant. Some of my earliest and most treasured memories are spending time with him. In my younger years, staying over at his apartment in Hackensack, getting to hang with the guys. That in his early days with Pam, watching 86 Super Bowl together, and the nights in Mahwah when Jared was just a baby, Scott and I playing Nintendo late into the night, laughing and enjoying life.

As I got older, meeting up with him in Atlantic City, while I was in college is a time I'll never forget, though maybe I should have picked up more on his responsible conservative traits. And then the time we took our father to see fish in Vegas, that was a special night for several reasons. Scott was always there for me with advice or even a Venmo. He was one of my biggest supporters during my entrepreneurial journey. When he faced his cancer diagnosis and treatment, he faced it the way he faced everything, with a fighting spirit that never wavered.

He found strength in the wisdom of Jim Murphy's inter excellence and lived its central truth, focused on what you can control, let go of the rest. That wasn't just his philosophy and illness, it was how Scott moved through life. He didn't waste energy on what he couldn't change. He poured himself into the people and things that he loved, and that is one of the lessons he's imparted on to me. He was a devoted husband and father, a wonderful son and an amazing brother, but to me, he was simply always there, steady, present, mind-to-call on, no matter what.

I love you, Scott.

I am so honored to have had this unbelievable human being in my life for so many years. Jill and I were in Puerto Rico on an insurance company reward conference at the Rio Mar Hotel when we saw this young mom struggling. There was a very active toddler who insisted on going into the swimming pool and another very active child in the stroller. Who was this woman and where was our husband? Jill said, let's go help her. That was Pam and Scott was off golfing. A friendship was born. Pam and Jill immediately became friends.

Jared and I was collected small fish called sand dollars and Scott became my brother. What followed grew into a beautiful relationship. Childbirths, bar mitzvahs, graduations, weddings, the births of grandkids, we shared it all, especially vacations. After Puerto Rico, there was a trip to Mohican Son. That's where Pam told us she was pregnant with Jordan. Followed by a short weekend at the North Fork wineries, that's where Pam told us she was pregnant with Jill. Pam finally was going to get the beautiful daughter she wanted so badly.

There were 10 years of family ski trips to Park City. One resulted with Jamie and Jesse deciding to go off trail. They wound up in the back of a pickup truck returning from Ogden. Jordan and I shared a special ride on the town lift, which had no safety bar. I had to ask them to stop fidgeting. I didn't know how it was going to explain to Pam and Scott that I had lost their son. Jared was always the boss. We had to take the trails he wanted, even if it meant double black diamond. Aruba, Hawaii, Ireland, Rome, Madrid, Marbella, Morocco.

That's where Pam decided to call her mom at 2 a.m. Barbara who was watching the kids back home in Jersey. Ma, can you measure the dining room? Pam wanted to buy a Moroccan rug. Nassau Grand Bahama from Montana's camp, Coles family, and Disney, the Jersey Shore, Sicily and Mafia. New Orleans for my 50th. That's where Jill got her first lap dance. Sedona, Tucson, Las Vegas, Napa, Santa Barbara, Atlantic City, Switzerland, Lake Como, Tuscany, Cape Cod, Lake Majora, Piedmont, Chiquitaire, and Naples. But truthfully, it didn't matter where we were.

We just wanted to spend time together. The four of us. Playing cards, telling funny stories about friends and family, and just laughing. We were on Long Island, they were in New Jersey. Then we both moved to Boca. We thought, finally, just 10 minutes away from each other. We played on decades of fun for our families and quality time for the four of us. Scott didn't put things off. He did it all. He lived a full life. He just did it in a few years. Scott had a wonderful career. He took amazing vacations, ski trips, golf trips, and he had beautiful homes.

But when we spoke privately, what he was proudest of was his family. If you're in this room today, to Scott, you were his family. Whoever it was, whenever they needed, Scott was that guy to go to. And he said, yes. Jared, Jesse, Jordan, Jillian, Grandkids, nieces, nephews, Dick and John, Irvin Barbara, Adam Todd, Lauren, Cheryl, Rona, David, Leslie, Meryl, Machatunim, his friends, and obviously Pam. He could shoulder it all, and he loved it. It always amazed me how he would have all these people in his life. Carry their issues on his plate.

And still, he was able to be in the moment and be there for me. Scott clearly had strengths of doing, but even more importantly, he had strengths of being. What kind of person be friends with an Uber driver and polish it into free mattresses? What husband sells an amazing house and buys another simply because his wife says, this son is hitting the pool in the wrong spot. What kind of son-in-law goes shopping for his father-in-law's personal hygiene products? Scott, Scott saw the best in people.

Whether it was family, friend, or just the guy on the street, Scott led with kindness. Scott's passing has left a crater for so many of us. Pam and Scott had a tremendous relationship, and they were an awesome team. They did it all together. My Ann told me that Pam once said, I do everything with him. The only place I don't really need him is when I go to Bloomingdale. No doubt there is a huge hole to fill, but Scott has left us with a road map. We will honor his life with what he has taught us, to live life the way he did.

Lead with family first, humility, kindness, and positivity. And order lots of chicken parmesan. To my dear brother, your noble heart has cracked. Good night, sweet prince. It is your time to rest. I will be forever grateful to have known you and had you in my life. We will hear from another long-time friend, John.

Scott and I have been friends for 45 years. We met right after we graduated from high school. We went to GW together. We were roommates. He was the best man in my wedding. Needless to say, we had a lot of history together. I think what made us tick was our ability to communicate with each other. Well, I knew Scott really well. Oftentimes I thought he knew me even better. He was able to read me like a book. He was always the one that I'd call in both good and bad times, and I always valued his advice and opinion.

Scott had an incredible moral compass and always counseled to do the right thing. In all the years that we knew each other, I never met a person who had a negative or harsh thing to say about him. He truly was a model of integrity and had a heart of gold. When he called to tell me what he had been diagnosed with, I froze. I was at a complete loss of words for the first time in my life. Having lost my grandmother and aunt to this horrible disease, I knew what I had. And I stumbled. I lost my words.

I feel terribly for not knowing what to say to comfort him, or provide the advice or encouragement that he deserved for me. When the call was over, I cried. I cried because I didn't want this from my friend. His family, I didn't want it from me, and most importantly, I cried because I knew from that day forward, things were never going to be the same. Several days later, after the shock wore off somewhat, and I was more composed, I called him and apologized for my fumbling so poorly.

Scott dismissed it in his usual way, and comforted me by saying, if it's able to return, he'd feel the same way. It was during this conversation, we had one of those heart to heart that we didn't have often, but when we did, it was real. And I'd like to share with you some of what he said. He said, John, I'm going to beat this thing. And when I do, I'm going to run the next New York City marathon. But if I don't, and this is the part that I want to share with all of you, I want you to know that I had a great life.

I have accomplished everything I set out to do. I have a wonderful wife who I love and cherish. I have amazing children and grandchildren that I adore. I have traveled the world. I've had a successful career. And so what more could I ask for out of life other than for more time? And truly, he did have it all. I know very few people who figured out the work life balance thing as well as Scott did. Well, we all, we want Scott to have had many, many, many more years. There are very few people that have been as fortunate and loved as Scott.

I knew when we first became friends, the Scott was a special person. He was a diamond in the rough. And through the years, that diamond was burnished and polished with amazing facets. He was an excellent and dedicated husband, incredible father, successful business, a businessman. And recently throughout this ordeal, he showed superhuman strength, resilience, determination, courage, and grace. Unlike any other person I have ever met. I will miss Scott for the rest of my days. And note that they will never have another friend as special as he was.

You are the love of my life. I knew it right from the start. The moment I looked at you, you found a place in my heart. No one's ever touched me quite the way you touched me. People search a lifetime to find what we have. I'll spend the rest of my days just loving you. That's how it began with our first dance, 37 and a half years ago. And after that, we had the most beautiful life together. Scott, you were truly my soulmate and you were taken from me way too soon. You are my love, my best friend, my every moment in life. And I truly don't know where to begin without you.

Your warmth, your love, your optimism, your guidance, your selflessness gave me comfort and peace every day of my life. I was your option generator and you were my decision maker. You are a hero to so many people in life and so many will be lost without you. The way that you looked at life, nothing got you down because you always said it's all good. Your positivity in life was infectious and all who blessed and all who were blessed to know you loved you. But I was the luckiest to have met you at 21. Leslie was our matchmaker.

We had the most beautiful 41 years together. Our four incredible children and their significant others, our three beautiful grandchildren, all of our family, whom we love so deeply, our two homes, our travels, and all our amazing friends, your office staff. You were looked up to and respected by all. Scott, our life together was full of adventure but the best moments were just the mundane. Sitting together and talking or watching TV or watching a TV series just being next to you, I will treasure forever.

The most potent line in our wedding song is that you are the heart and soul of my life. And that is something that will be with me forever and ever. Until we meet again, my love. Rest peacefully.

In 2010, at a Zahal Shalom pool party, a little girl was placed down in the pool. When someone noticed, everyone in the crowd froze, but not my dad. He jumped into the pool in his clothes, phone in his pocket, scooped her up, took her out of the pool, and saved her life. As the ambulance came, and the chaos ensued, and everyone at the party tried to process the state of shock of what just happened. One of the Israeli soldiers of that year's delegation picked me up.

I was just 10 years old, held me tight, and walked me around the backyard, rubbing my back, and repeating in my ear, your daddy is a hero, your daddy is a hero. One of my favorite things about my dad is that he wasn't just my hero. Every single day in my life, I had the privilege of watching him be a hero to so many other people. If my dad gave you advice, you didn't need to look any further for the answer. You just took his word and moved on, because somehow he just had the answer to everything.

But don't get me wrong, he wasn't infallible, and sometimes, oftentimes, my dad could be embarrassing. Like the time we were in New Zealand, just a few years ago, and our tour guide introduced herself as Debbie. But with her accent, she said, hi, I'm Debbie. And a few moments later, when my dad had a question, he said, hey, hey, Debbie. And the best was the way that collectively, my mom, siblings and I would all say, dad, before we started hysterically laughing at him.

My dad was perfectly himself in every way, perfectly sure of himself in everything that he did, and it was hard to get him to change his mind about something when he knew what he wanted to do. People on the internet talk about having an airport dad, and it usually describes dads who arrived to the airport two hours early to make sure that they don't miss their flight. My dad had his own way of being an airport dad, and it involved arriving at the airport 20 minutes before boarding. It often involved some level of panic, as we ran through security.

My mom would stop at Starbucks, my dad grabbed sandwiches, and one of my siblings or I would run to the gate to try to convince the gate agents to hold it open for just 30 more seconds, because my parents are coming. They're sprinting here right now, and there would be my parents running down the terminal with their coffee spilling out of their cups, and their bags falling off their shoulders. But then if you said to my dad, wouldn't you rather just get here early next time than have to rush like this?

He would say, no, I'd rather sit on my couch and sit at the airport. So that was that. We did it again and again and again, and it drives Ben crazy, but I'm the exact same way. As everyone here knows, my dad was a natural mentor. He loved teaching people everything that he knew. I learned hundreds and hundreds of lessons from him over my life. Most of the time, I didn't realize it was a lesson until days, weeks, or years later. But his greatest lesson that I ever learned from him was the lesson of acceptance. My dad almost never got angry.

He defined tranquility. The only times my dad ever got frustrated with me that I can remember was when I was being too hard on myself and not letting myself off the hook for something that I couldn't change. Like the time, I accidentally listed our extra U.S. open tickets on two separate ticketing sites and they sold at the same time. So instead of making money, we lost money.

And while I'm sure my dad was not thrilled about what I did, he could tell from the way that I was spiraling, upset, and angry at myself that I had realized my mistake all on my own. He didn't need to make it any harder on me. So instead, as he always did, he taught me how to let it go. Was there anything I could do to get the money back? No. Did I learn a lesson? Yes. So that's all that you can do. Money will come back in time. Just let it go.

People dedicate their lives to trying to find radical acceptance and what's crazy is that my dad just innately possessed it. Over the past 14 months, I have watched my dad fight his toughest battle. And though this is never the outcome any of us ever imagined, I will always say that my dad beat cancer. In my eyes, to succumb to cancer would mean to let your diagnosis define your life, to shrink up, to lose yourself in the face of a challenge. But my dad did the opposite. He redefined what it means to be a stage 4 pancreatic cancer patient.

A stage 4 cancer patient can play golf and pickleball and win. Can take vacations and sit at the pool. Can continue to provide guidance and mentorship to everyone in his life and so much more. He never let cancer get the best of him. He grew even bigger. Throughout his diagnosis, I had countless bad dreams. Just a few nights before we spoke to his doctor, I had a dream that they told us there was nothing else that they could do. And in my dream, my dad cried.

But when it happened in real life, and his doctor came to tell us that nothing more could be done, my dad didn't cry at all. He shook her hand. He said thank you for saving my life. And he said what he always said. It's all good. Radical acceptance. Dad, every day of my life, I'm going to try to be a little more like you. Accepting generous, proud, yet humble, unbelievably wise. Right now, it feels like we will never recover from this. How could we ever go on without you? But I know that we will because you taught us exactly how.

You taught us how to trust our gut, how to be eternal optimists, and most importantly, how to accept the things that we can't control. I'll miss you forever. I'll miss walking into your bathroom in the mornings and seeing you shaving at the sink. I'll miss the look on your face when you would laugh so hard that it actually looked painful. I'll miss all of the many ways that you ate your pretzels.

In the car, the bag sitting in the driver's seat next to you, on the couch watching sports with a bag tucked under your arm, or standing at the kitchen table with one hanging out of your mouth as you refilled your red solo cup. I'll miss you especially on every Halloween and every October 22nd, and I'll miss you deeply on the night of my wedding. But dad, I want you to know that to me, a wedding is just a party. You and mom taught me how to have a marriage, and that I will have forever. I'll have you with me forever, dad. You didn't just touch lives.

You changed them. Thank you for everything, dad. You are a whole universe. I love you beyond.

Hi, everyone. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Jordan Scott and Pam's third son. Although I will try, it is completely impossible to put into words what my dad means to me and the type of person he was. He was singular in every way. In my dad's final days, we have the opportunity to talk to him and tell him things. I got to thank him. I thanked him for being a hero, not just a hero to me and the way most children see their dads, but a hero to practically every person who knew him. Friends, family, colleagues, and oftentimes strangers.

I thank my dad for giving us the world, but also teaching us to appreciate it, to be humble, to be generous, not just with money, but also with time, knowledge, and energy, to both help those in need and share advice. I thank him for helping us to see the world and experience it, to travel, make friends, and always be the person to say yes to a new experience. I thank my dad for taking an interest in my interests. He always took the time to listen when I told him about a new movie I watched or a show I saw. He treated each of his kids individually.

I thank him for the relationship he had with Kyle. He accepted him right away like a son and made him feel welcome and included. I loved watching them joke around together and compete on the tennis and pickleball court. I thanked my dad for teaching me to follow my passions and listen to my gut. He always told us that if you follow your interest in life, that money would follow. I've taken that advice to heart and will always follow what makes me happy over anything else. I thanked him for accepting me, especially when I felt different.

For loving me and being proud of me, not just for being someone he wanted me to be, but for being exactly who I am and being myself is already more than enough. And when we got done thanking him, he said it was never a question, but there is so much I am going to miss. I will miss getting his tips on the tennis and pickleball court. I've already accepted that I'll never be as good as him, but I'll keep trying. I'll miss watching tennis with him too. Our trips to the U.S.

Open together, always in the first week as he would say, are some of the greatest, are some of my greatest memories. I'll miss riding in the car with him, especially when one of his favorite classic rock songs would come on the radio and say, this is a great tune. I'll miss his stories, being a gas station attendant during a freezing winter, selling jelly beans to Ronald Reagan, or being a ball kid to tennis pros at an exhibition match. I'll miss watching movies and playing board games.

He always beat us at settlers with Catan and we dubbed him sneaky Scott. I'll miss when he would come home with bagels from Goldbergs or make pancakes and French toast in the morning, or when he would come home from the grocery store with the wrong thing and my mom would make him go back. I'll miss our trips. Weekends in Boca, skiing at West, adventures in Europe, Costa Rica in Australia and weeks in Aruba. We were so beyond lucky.

I'll miss being able to ask him questions about basically anything and how he would run his hand through his hair when he was thinking. But most of all, I will miss his presence. When he was in the room, I felt relaxed, safe and supported. He was our guiding light. In my dad's last week in the hospital, he and I got to sit and watch the French open together. I noticed this quote in bold letters above the stadium and it struck me immediately. Victory belongs to the most tenacious.

Without even putting words to it, this is how my dad lived, with tenacity, with passion, with optimism, and with love for every new day. It will be the honor of my life to carry the torch for him, to travel, to ski, to compete, to make friends, to help people to mentor, to live a life filled with happiness, adventures, deep friendships, a loving relationship, and an unshakable confidence in the face of adversity. I encourage everyone in this room to join me in that mission and spread the values my dad lived each day by. Rest peacefully, dad.

I love you forever, bud.

None of this is right. We shouldn't be here right now. We were here about two months ago for the passing of my mom's father, my grandpa. It feels cruel and completely unfair because of the man my dad was, and because of everything he still had to look forward to. The family trips we were planning, the countless rounds of golf we were supposed to play this summer, and witnessing my ten-month-old baby Rubin grow up. He should have been the kind of grandpa to Rubin that my own father was to me, that my own grandfather was to me.

He should have been the kind of grandpa to Rubin that my own father was to me. We have to explain to the next generation who their poppy was, but the truth is his presence was so large that it feels impossible to sum his life up into words. People would always tell us, I want to come back as a Krim kid, and that meant something to us, because it meant having parents who wanted to give and give and give to their children. With four kids, Dad had a lot on his plate, but somehow he managed it all.

He was the assistant coach for our baseball teams, the head coach of our roller hockey teams, he scheduled our music lessons and took us on trips of a lifetime. Our house on old post-road will always provide the fondest memories, and he and mom constructed it that way. I remember exactly what that house felt like. More than anything, I remember him walking through the garage door around dinner time and saying, hello, tried my best, and all of us running to the door yelling, dad, and give him a big hug. He always leaned into our passions.

He bought me my first guitar when I was 11 or 12. You're going to show me the classic rock tunes he played in college. Every year from my birthday, he let me pick out a new piece for my drum set in the basement until I eventually had five toms and nine symbols, and the drum set took up half the music room. He did that simply because he was happy making me happy. We used to yell down the stairs, and he used to yell down the stairs, and flick the lights on and off to tell me to stop playing. But he wasn't just dad to the four of us. He was a connector.

He had a natural way with people that made him the ultimate host. Whenever we had parties, I'd hear people shouting, and my cousin shouting, hi, Uncle Scott, from all the way across the room. To my mom's sisters, he was the brother they never had. And when they needed him, he stepped right in as a father figure. He walked into every room with a smile, believing that no matter what happened, it would all be okay. My dad was the strongest, most sincere and proud man I've ever known. He fought for everything he had.

He used a difficult broken childhood as motivation to focus and build something better. When someone told him he couldn't do something, he simply said, and he told me, in this quote, that's not true, I can do whatever I want. And that's how we walked on and fought for the very last spot on the George Washington University tennis team, winning the match seven to five in the third set because he refused to lose. That exact same fighting spirit is how we faced cancer.

He was so incredibly strong that he never let it get in the way of the life he continued to live. He gave us all so much hope that we honestly never treated him any differently. And looking back, it feels like he pulled the wool over our eyes, but he did it to protect us. He made us believe, deep down in our hearts, that he was going to get through it. Because of his strength, time kept passing, and good times kept coming, and he kept beating us at pickleball, and traveling to Aruba just last month.

For the horrible week that he was in the hospital, my mom, Jordan and Julie were sleeping in a hotel room nearby. I slept there that Tuesday night, and wrote some words to say to dad on my phone, and I woke physically shaking in the middle of the night from the fear of losing him. In the morning, I got up early and left the hotel room on my own to get to him right at the beginning of visitor hours. I knew I had a brief time alone with him, and deep down that it was likely the last time I would ever get to speak with him one-on-one.

So I used that time to record a voice note of our 30-minute conversation, and I wanted to capture his voice, his wisdom, and tell him absolutely everything he meant to me. I sat with him and just poured my heart out. Here's what I said. You were the best dad I could have ever asked for. You've given me everything. Support, love, care, guidance, and fun. You've taken care of us our whole lives. We heard people say so many times growing up, I want to come back as a Krim kid, and that really means everything to us.

The family that you created, the bonds that we sibling share is greater than anyone I know. We all take after you in different ways. We all look up to you, love you, and want to emulate you. Your character, your pride, your way with people, your friends, your family. You were the ultimate family man. You raised four kids, connected with each of us on such a deep level, and always made us feel special. Took us on trips of a lifetime that will always remember. I want to be just like you and give my kids the same thing.

You've always been the strongest, most sincere and proudest man I've ever known. The best guy. You're my role model, you're my biggest role model in hero, and I will do my best to take after you. I'm sure being our dad was one of the greatest adventures of your life. The highs, the lows, and everything in between. Now that I'm a father myself, I can already feel how quickly time moves. The days become years, children grow up, and before you know it, a lifetime has passed.

And the only real difference between where I am today and where you are now is about 30 years of living those moments. We will be strong. We will be together. We will take care of mom forever and always. You will always be with us. You've made our lives so special and meaningful. We are strong together. The Krim family means something to us, means something to those around us, and that was all because of you. And I went to give him, I went to hug him, and his words back to me were, those are great buddy. I mean, you're the best. I love you guys so much.

I couldn't ask for better, wonderful, caring, amazing people you've become. Father, brother, everything. You guys are amazing. I'm proud of everything we've done together and happy that we've done so much and made some memories that'll last a lifetime. We have a family bond that'll last forever, and that's what I'm happiest about. But I'm not going anywhere. I'm a fighter buddy. I asked him to tell me about his life and he explained exactly where his legendary drive came from.

He told me that a broken child would give him the motivation to focus and build something better. He said, in quote, when someone told me I can't do something, I just said that's not true. I can do whatever I want. I asked him for advice on having my first baby, and he told me about his. It was the greatest joy in my life. It put everything in a different perspective. You realize you're taking on a new role, and your job becomes making your children, making sure your children are happy, taking care of them, and it's a higher cause.

He told me that he always liked building things, and ultimately, family was more important than anything for us, for my mom and dad. And even at the very end, facing the unimaginable, his only focus was his love and pride for his family. And before we finish talking, he reminded me one last time, I'm a fighter buddy. I'm not going anywhere. He was right. He isn't going anywhere. He told me in the hospital that mom and I were always speaking from himself.

Mom and I were always good at taking it one day at a time, not getting crazy, and managing through everything that would come up. The Krim family means something to us, and it means something to everyone in this room. And that is entirely because of you, Dad. We will carry you with us. We will be strong. You made our lives so incredibly special. And you made us all so proud to be your children. I love you, Dad. It's all good, but.

The best possible life, absolute fullness of life, is one with extraordinary experiences, deep meaningful relationships, and most of all, love, joy, and peace. Dad, this is a quote from your favorite book, Inner Excellence. Dad, this quote from your favorite book, Inner Excellence, is you. You lived every day, the absolute fullness of life, and filled every day with love, joy, and peace. You forever will be a giant, not in stature. I tried to wear one of your suits today, and the sleeves came up to my forearms.

But I am wearing the tie that you wore at my bar mitzvah, and we all are. But in mind, but you will be a giant, in mind, spirit, and soul. You will forever be in the highest pantheon, the best of the best, who have ever walked this earth. I'm speaking to Dad. You won this battle. For the last 14 months, you live life to the fullest, and never let this fight define or stop you. You lived every day of your life with joy, optimism, hope, courage, strength, and love.

And Dad, as hard as this past week with you was, it was a blessing that we had that time together. You got to tell us all how much you loved us, how proud of us you were, and we got to tell you all the words that we wanted to say. And I know there will always be more, and somehow you'll answer. It has been the honor of my life to join you in business and a privilege that most children and aside of you that most children don't get to experience with their parents. To watch you work with our clients, it's like watching Picasso at work.

You are a master financial planner, enshrined in the upper echelon of the best to ever do it. The way you listened so intently to everyone you worked with was a learning moment at every meeting. Everyone you worked with could feel the love you have for them, the care you have for them, the care you have for them, and their goals and needs. And we all look to you for wisdom and guidance. You have the answers to everything.

You are a pioneer in remote work, long before the days of Zoom, taking calls from remote places across the world, both because you cared and your clients needed you, but because you always love the freedom and flexibility to be an entrepreneur and work the way that you wanted. You were an entrepreneur through and through. In your own words, I always wanted to be an entrepreneur because I never wanted anyone to tell me what I could do, could or could not make, and I wanted to control my own destiny.

Even over the past 14 months, you worked tirelessly on your new business and insurance advocacy platform. Not for the money, but for the sake of helping people to be protected. I'll be striving every day of my life to follow in your footsteps, to pick up your mantle, and to be the best financial planner and person that I can be. Dad, out of all of your many jobs, titles and roles in your life, your favorite was being poppy.

To watch you be a grandfather to Aaron, and more recently Abby and Rubin, has been the greatest joy of my life, and I know it's the greatest joy of yours as well. You love those kids so much it hurts. Aaron and his poppy are best friends forever. Because you truly are his favorite person, and he's your favorite person? Every time Aaron and poppy saw each other, their faces would light up with joy. I will forever miss poppy tickles where you would kiss Aaron under his chin, and he would laugh and laugh and laugh.

I'll never forget handing you Abby last July, and the tears just started streaming down your face. I think it was because you knew what you faced, and that was just, I don't know if I've ever seen you cry except for that beautiful moment. It's hard to explain to a three-year-old why you are gone. That's a question I'll never have an answer for, but there's something unique and perceptive in the way that a three-year-old views the world.

When I told Aaron Poppy was going to heaven, he replied, and I'll see him there one day, and in more conversations with Aaron, he asked if he could take a plane to heaven. I said, no, heaven's in outer space, and he said, like on the sun? And I said, yeah, it's on the sun. In typical three-year-old fashion, he goes, why is it on the sun? It's like, Aaron, you just told me it's on the sun. But as we talk more, Aaron and I realized that heaven is on the sun, because poppy will be shining a light down on him and all of us for the rest of our days.

To sum this up to a three-year-old. I shared a quote with him from his favorite TV show, Bluey. Sometimes special people come into our lives for a bit, and then they have to go. Bluey replies, well, that's sad. And her mom replies, but the bit where they were here was happy, wasn't it? Maybe that makes it all worth it. Dad, your genuine love of music was infectious. You love to share all your favorite bands and songs in us, and you instilled in a love of music in your children, especially 80s music.

I'll never listen to Boston or Foreigner or Peace of Mind without hearing you singing every word. A few of his favorites for you to all play today is, hold on loosely, Sausalito Summer Night, and Little Willy by Sweet, which defined all of our Hebrew school carpools when I was a kid. You love to go see live music, and you took us to see all the greats. From my first show being Lynyrd Skynyrd at age 14 to seeing Van Halen, Journey, Def Leppard, Steely Dan, of course Bruce. I think even you were shocked by the amount of concerts Jesse and I went to that.

Dad, there truly are no words to encompass what a beautiful soul you have. You have in you every objective that makes humanity wonderful. There's another Inner Excellence quote that fits well on you. Humility isn't thinking less of yourself. It's thinking of yourself less. You would give the shirt off your back if someone knew that. You're the only person I know that tipped gas attendants in New Jersey. Every bit that you had to give of your life, you gave to others. As children, you gave us everything we could want or need.

All while teaching us to be humble, grateful, and generous. You're the most generous. With your time, your money, your wisdom, and your love. Your generosity has touched an uncountable number of people and has literally saved lives. You have taught us that if you have gifts, share them with the world. Even as you were fighting, you were helping others, providing guidance, financial support, loving, and care. You were so free with admiration and praise. You made sure each of us knew how proud you were of us and how much you love us.

Dad, you're my best friend forever. My guiding light, my north star, my inspiration, my mentor, my teacher, and you will be with me, my children as their poppy, their children, and beyond forever. I'm so proud of you and I'm forever thankful for you. Dad, the night the weather was beautiful the day you left this earthly plane. Later that evening, there was a hell of a storm that came in with the downpour of rain, thunder, and lightning. We all knew the world was crying for you.

Then like magic, through the rain, a beautiful golden sunset appeared and we just stood out in the rain and just watched it and we all knew that it was you telling us to smile through the tears because that's what you would do and that's what you would want us to do. There are no words to describe my infinite love for you and as Aaron said, I'll see you one day.

Thank you for all those moving and loving remembrances. I'd like to invite everybody who can do so comfortably to please rise. God of mercy and compassion from whom we come into whom we return in whose hands are the souls of the living and the dead, in whose eyes a thousand years are but as yesterday, grant we pray perfect rest in your shelter and presence to the soul of our beloved Scott, son of Richard and Harriet.

In your infinite mercy grant him the gift of life eternal, may his memory be a source of solace and healing, abiding among us as a lasting blessing, and let us say, please be seated. We are going to be reconvening at King Solomon Cemetery following interment. Everyone is welcome to offer consolation at the home of Jamie and Lane and Golub in Upper Saddle River. I've been asked to advise that valley parking will be available on site. This point I'd like to invite Scott's nieces and nephews to take their places as pallbearers.

I'd like to invite Scott to take their places as well. Thank you.