Many people wrote in to share their memories of Stephanie and the impact she had on their lives. Here are some from her memorial service.

From David, her son

As we left the hospital two Fridays ago, I reflected with my father on how my mother had guided me. I noted that wisdom or enlightenment, the ability to distinguish truth from falsehood and to recognize what is valuable, cannot be directly imparted. It must be learned. So, she did not impart wisdom, she asked questions. Questions that forced me to reconcile the fact that my concept of the world and my place in it had no answer for them.

At NSCL, it was the essay prompt: Who am I? Where am I going? And why do I study? I answered that last question “because I have to” the first time I was asked it. But it made me realize that that might not be the only answer. And, over the years, it led me to be a very different type of student, one guided by intrinsic motivation and sense of purpose. Later in life, she often asked, “but is it real?” That reminded me that not everything is and that I should seek that which is authentic and ensure my intentions are genuine and my actions sincere.

I worry that my children will not benefit from her presence as I have. And I do mean her very presence. My mother recognized the dignity, and infinite potential, of every life. Just to have known her, to have seen those beliefs manifested in her interactions with people and nature, challenged one’s concept of reality and what drives it. She fit in no box. She could be explained by no theory of economics or psychology. She was not intimated by obstacles. She did not rationalize. She sought out opportunities to contribute. To build community. To create value. And she engaged in each of those opportunities like it was her life’s purpose. Just to have known her is to recognize that there is a broader reality than that which one can witness or reason through.

That does not mean my mother was without self-doubt. As I became an adult, I came to know just how much she did doubt herself. But she believed fiercely in a set of principles. And that belief allowed her to overcome her doubts. So she was not fearless. She was brave.

When my mother turned 60, I told her my life was primarily a celebration of my mother. As I held her hand on that evening in the hospital, I told her my life was still in celebration of her. I have spent the past week wondering what that means for me and for those who want to honor her legacy. I think it means we must seize each opportunity to live contributively. We must recognize the dignity and potential inherent in all life and defend it when it is threatened. That includes when the threat comes from within. We must search for the things that cannot be explained so that we can be reminded that there is more to the world than we know. We must reflect upon our experiences so that we might distinguish truth from falsehood and recognize what is valuable. And then we must act. For there is value in this world that will not exist unless we create it.

I will miss my mother. I will miss the family holiday gatherings she insisted happen regardless of distance or other inconveniences. I will miss our conversations. I will miss the delight in her voice every time she answered the phone.

While this is a time for grief, it is also a time for resolution. My family has lost its monarch. I have lost my mentor. As I stand here, surrounded by people whose lives were touched by Stephanie Grey Buzzarte Tansey, I wonder what question to ask in this moment. I feel compelled to ask myself, and others who might describe themselves as her disciples, what will be the consequence of today and of each day of the rest of my life?