In Memory of Holly Hurlburt
Donation protected
Many people might believe that Holly Hurlburt’s life was tragic. Born in Korea, her childhood was a nightmare of physical/sexual abuse and deprivation. When she was adopted by Pennsylvanian librarians Bruce and Janet Hurlburt, the horrors seemed to finally be over—for the first time in her young life, she had loving parents, a safe home, a wonderful education and brilliant future before her. Then, as a teenager, she suddenly found herself engaged in a deadly battle with lupus, an insidious disease which first attacked her body, then forced her into a wheelchair and destroyed her internal organs, and finally took her life.
It certainly seems to be the stuff of tragedy. Yet I would argue that Holly’s life was a triumph. She never gave in to her disease--accompanied everywhere by her beloved service dog Clara, she faced every new devastating challenge with humor, positivity, good will and courage. Fiercely independent and wonderfully stubborn, she lived in her own house, and drove her own car to the Center for Independent Living where she was employed. Later, she became an articulate spokesperson for the disabled, visiting legislators in Harrisburg for funding, and attending advocacy conferences. She also spoke extensively in forums designed to assist the disabled. Many people she served said that Holly had not only inspired them, but truly changed their lives.
Holly wasted no time mourning what she had lost. Instead, she focused her attention and energy on making the most of what she had left. Nothing stopped her: when her health suddenly plummeted in the last six months of her life, she went to work every day unless she was in the hospital. At night, she could hardly move. But she'd return to work again the next day.
Holly never asked "why me?" or expressed envy over the lives that her friends lived--not even to her mom or closest friends. Instead, she felt blessed that lupus had not robbed her of her eyesight, hearing, mental acumen and empathy—gifts that enabled her to spend what was left of her short life helping others. How she would have loved Sense, a charity that is there for every person who faces communication barriers in a world that relies on being able to see and hear well to be connected.
Holly was my dear friend, my shero, and perhaps the bravest person I have ever known (although she would laugh at me for saying that). She taught me that no one knows how much time they will have on earth, and that we should try to live every moment of life to its fullest. Thus I believe she would wholeheartedly approve of my superannuated and slightly insane attempt to run the London marathon at age 72 for Sense. I just hope that she and Clara will be watching the race. This one's for both of you, my dears! I'll have your names written on my arm and will shout them out when I cross the finish!
Here's the SENSE donation site
Note: If you would like to run the London Marathon with Holly, Clara, and me (while you are snuggled on your couch in your comfy clothes, sipping hot chocolate and nibbling on a warm croissant) let me know. I'll write your name on my arm as well, assign you a mile marker, and shout out your name when I cross it!
It certainly seems to be the stuff of tragedy. Yet I would argue that Holly’s life was a triumph. She never gave in to her disease--accompanied everywhere by her beloved service dog Clara, she faced every new devastating challenge with humor, positivity, good will and courage. Fiercely independent and wonderfully stubborn, she lived in her own house, and drove her own car to the Center for Independent Living where she was employed. Later, she became an articulate spokesperson for the disabled, visiting legislators in Harrisburg for funding, and attending advocacy conferences. She also spoke extensively in forums designed to assist the disabled. Many people she served said that Holly had not only inspired them, but truly changed their lives.
Holly wasted no time mourning what she had lost. Instead, she focused her attention and energy on making the most of what she had left. Nothing stopped her: when her health suddenly plummeted in the last six months of her life, she went to work every day unless she was in the hospital. At night, she could hardly move. But she'd return to work again the next day.
Holly never asked "why me?" or expressed envy over the lives that her friends lived--not even to her mom or closest friends. Instead, she felt blessed that lupus had not robbed her of her eyesight, hearing, mental acumen and empathy—gifts that enabled her to spend what was left of her short life helping others. How she would have loved Sense, a charity that is there for every person who faces communication barriers in a world that relies on being able to see and hear well to be connected.
Holly was my dear friend, my shero, and perhaps the bravest person I have ever known (although she would laugh at me for saying that). She taught me that no one knows how much time they will have on earth, and that we should try to live every moment of life to its fullest. Thus I believe she would wholeheartedly approve of my superannuated and slightly insane attempt to run the London marathon at age 72 for Sense. I just hope that she and Clara will be watching the race. This one's for both of you, my dears! I'll have your names written on my arm and will shout them out when I cross the finish!
Here's the SENSE donation site
Note: If you would like to run the London Marathon with Holly, Clara, and me (while you are snuggled on your couch in your comfy clothes, sipping hot chocolate and nibbling on a warm croissant) let me know. I'll write your name on my arm as well, assign you a mile marker, and shout out your name when I cross it!
Organizer
Darby Lewes
Organizer
Muncy, PA
