Eulogy from Eric
Eric Sabbag (Cousin)
Jason was my cousin. I’ve known him longer then I’ve known my own name. Despite a six-hour drive that separated our families, we grew up together. On a regular basis, my parents would toss my brothers and I into the back seat and whisk us off to the old house in Greenwich, which, as far as I was concerned, might as well have been Never Never Land, I loved it so. I loved exploring the nooks and crannies of that endless backyard, I loved riding around on the big red tractor, I loved going to the beach, I loved every last thing about that place. Take every last thing away, though, and it wouldn’t have mattered one bit. Because more then anything, I LOVED hanging out with Jason. I know I speak for my brother Steph as well as myself when I say that playing with Jasey and Cliffy was our absolute favorite thing to do in the world. It was heaven. We loved every second of it.
The four of us spent most of our time competing when we were together. Whether it was an oldest vs. youngest tag team battle royal pillow fight, a Canada vs. USA basketball tournament. or a singles belly flop contest, if there was any way to compete at something, we would find it. And if there was any way to win at something, Jason would find it. He loved to compete. And who could blame him; he almost always won!
I remember the first (and only) time I played Jason in tennis. Of course, I already knew he was an excellent tennis player; I bragged incessantly about his tennis abilities to my friends, saying, “my cousin is gonna be a tennis pro if he keeps it up.” But I never realized how good he was until I actually played him. We must have been about thirteen and fourteen years old. We started with a little warm up volley in which I held my own. After a little while of this, my confidence grew enough for me to sputter, “Let’s play a game, I can take you.” The lightning quick first serve that ensued hit the fence behind me before I was able to lift my racquet above my waist. “You win. Let’s play something a little less dangerous.”
Seeking payback. I challenged him to a little one on one, figuring there was no way he could beat me. After all, I had a considerable height advantage and extensive high school playing experience. Sure enough, I schooled him; for a point or two. A couple of steals and a barrage of outside shots later, though, he beat me at my own game. And you know what? I didn’t even mind. After all, it was Jason. How could
I mind losing to a guy that was so good at everything? It honestly never bothered me. Probably because he always carried himself so well when he won.
Sure, he’d crack a few trash talking jokes, but you’ve got to hand it to him, they were funny. Either way, he’d always turn right around and complement whatever improvements I’d made to my game and tell me how much potential I had. You know, I always listened a little extra to Jason. We all did, his cousins. Why? Maybe it was his confidence, maybe it was his ability to succeed, and maybe it was nothing but that incredible smile. One thing was certain, we admired him. In many cases, we even emulated him.
When we were kids, one of the reasons I loved talking to Jason was because he would always introduce me to new things I’d never heard of before, like pro wrestling. I remember we used to watch pro wrestling together until the wee hours in his room. He had stacks of wrestling magazines that we’d sift through as he gave me the lowdown on the characters. So, naturally, for a while I became a wrestling fan. After all, Jason was. Thankfully, we both moved on.
When Jason cooled down his tennis career to play golf, my brother and I laughed at him. Low and behold, we now go regularly for rounds of the laughable sport. We can thank Jason for the idea to pick it up at all.
When I heard Jason praise his European backpacking experience, it made me want to go. Sure enough, a couple of years later I found myself lost in the Czech Republic and loving every second of it. That same summer, my brother Steph decided to take it a step further. After hearing Jason’s story about how much fun he had running with the bulls in Pamplona, he went ahead and did just that, because in his words “if Jason can do it, I want to do it too.” Thank you Jason.
He was a leader, because he led by example. Over the past couple of years, whenever he would come up to Montreal, the five Sabbag boys would hit the town. There was a problem though. You see, myself, my brother, Jasey, and Cliffy are all very close in age. But my little brother Patrick is a few years younger. So when we all went out, who do you think took care of the little guy? His own brothers? Yeah, right. It was Jason who made sure Patrick wasn’t left out of a conversation or stuck outside a bar. By the end of the night, I think Patrick had a good time. I know I did. Thanks again Jason.
My father often tells us to “carry the torch.” “You guys and Jasey and Cliffy are the heirs to the Sabbag name. You’ve gotta carry the torch,” he would say. I always laughed at the cliché, but nevertheless took its message to heart. Well, not only did Jason carry that torch, he hoisted it high above his head and showed it in all its glory for everyone to see. I was always so proud to have him as my cousin. I know we all were. After all, how could we be anything but? He was just so very GOOD at everything. A good athlete. A good student. A good businessman. A good teacher. A good leader. A good son. A good brother. A good friend. A good boyfriend. A good nephew. A good cousin. A good kid. And a great, great man.
David Searls once said: “Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean.” It is with this in mind that I manage to cope with the enormity of this tragedy.
I speak on behalf of all of your cousins, Jason, when I say we are going to miss you more then words can express. We are eternally grateful for having known you. And we will always remember how great you are. Thank you Jason. See you over the horizon.
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