Guided by Compassion and Purpose

Written and delivered by his uncle, Stuart Gunter

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found, Was blind, but now I see.

I woke up last week with this song running through my head, and it provided some comfort. Just a little, but enough. My mom said this is just one of those things that we cannot understand. And yet, here we are. To remember Grayson, our beloved Grayson. A brilliant light, a gentle soul, and someone whose depth and sensitivity touched more lives than he likely ever knew.

Grayson was many things — a son, a grandson, a nephew, a cousin, a friend, a music enthusiast, a lover of history — but for those who knew him best, he was like music in human form. He felt the world deeply, saw beauty where others overlooked it, and brought that beauty to life through his words and his presence.

Grayson was wonderfully expressive, especially at the piano. One day, while working through Solfeggietto in C Minor by C.P.E. Bach — a fast, intricate piece filled with 16th-note runs — he got stuck on a tricky passage. His grandmother, Nanny, asked if he needed help. Grayson explained he was trying to play it from memory — and that he didn’t have the music with him. Nanny presented the sheet music. With it now in front of him, he worked through the challenge and played to the end.

His friends would say Grayson was there for people. He showed up. He loved being a shoulder to cry on, and he listened — truly listened. He carried a sense of responsibility to others: the ability to respond. He would drive long hours just to comfort a friend. His compassion stretched across continents, through late-night calls and quiet wisdom shared in digital spaces.

His humor was sharp and kind. His smiling eyes lit up a room. He was known for his quick stride — especially around the office — always headed to help someone, always with purpose.

  He also loved history, especially obscure stories of WW I & II involving battleships and naval excursions. He was an expert on weapons and armaments. Some of his most cherished memories were sitting beside his grandfather, Jimbo, watching old war films. It wasn’t just about history — it was about connection, legacy, and shared time.

Grayson loved music deeply, from classic rock to classical. One of his favorite pieces was Beethoven’s Für Elise. Perhaps its delicate, emotional simplicity reflected something of his soul.

Grayson was looking for something. Maybe he was looking for his music — and he couldn’t find it. 

There was no one around to give it to him, and he couldn’t ask for the help he needed. He was lost.

And actually now — now, we trust, we have to trust — he is found.

Let us take care of each other. Let us love fiercely, speak honestly, and lift one another up — especially in the dark. Let us remember that we are never as alone as we may feel. Let us live as Grayson lived — with curiosity, loyalty, kindness, and heart.

Grayson’s life mattered. His love mattered. His music, his laughter, his presence — they all mattered. And they always will.

“Now cracks a noble heart. Goodnight, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.” — William Shakespeare, Hamlet

Rest easy and fly high, Grayson. You were deeply loved. You always will be.