Emma Genevieve Pliska
On March 29, 2017, the world suffered the great loss of our beautiful May Flower, Emma Genevieve Pliska.
She was born May 4, 1996, in Topeka, KS, to Daniel and Brigitte (Ames) Pliska. Growing up in Ashland, MO, Emma was a brilliant artist and pianist with a delightful sense of humor. She graduated high school a year early to pursue a degree in Computer Engineering. As an advocate of mental health, Emma was an active blogger, sharing advice and view points on her personal blog, OvercomingToday.com.
In addition to her parents, she will be lovingly remembered and deeply missed by her brothers, Derek Pliska, Danny Pliska (wife, Kate), and many friends. Emma had a certain sparkle and her dazzling personality touched many lives for the better.
A Celebration of her Life will be held at Robinson Funeral Home (601 N. Henry Clay Blvd, Ashland, MO) on Monday, April 3, 2017 with visitation beginning at 1:00 pm and service to follow at 2:00 pm.
In lieu of flowers, memorial donations may be made to National Alliance on Mental Illness (nami.org).
I have nothing but fond memories of Emma Pliska; she was an amazing friend, sweet, funny, pure. RIP Snake Pliska.
There are no words that will lessen your immense loss. If and when you need someone to listen, a friend is a call away. You remain in my prayers.
I hired, and worked as Emma’s supervisor, for a couple of years recently and she was always a joy to be around. She was eager to learn, dedicated, and brought a young spunk to the department.
I remember working with her one day when storms were going through and her first concern was for her parents; I gave her permission to step away and call to check on them.
My deepest sympathy and prayers for Dan and Brigitte.
Emma… It was the strict and single greatest gift of my life to have known you. You said I was the smartest person you’d ever met, but no; that’s what you were to me. Brilliant, clever, pithy; but also affectionate and moreso than any words can sufficiently describe. You were the most human person who’s ever let me know them.
I would give it all just to hear your raspy laugh one more time.
I’ll make you proud now. I will. You’ll see. I love you, b.
I am so sorry for your immense loss. I remember when Emma was just a little girl and how beautiful she was. Please accept my deepest condolences.
What a warrior she was. As her former teacher, she shines in my memory as a creative spirit. I am so proud of her recent blog and advocacy for mental illness, and courage to speak out using her voice and talent with words. May she and her family have peace in their suffering.
~~~Seems like only yesterday I watched Emma walking or riding her bike past my windows, her pretty face and beautiful hair…serious and devoted to her high school studies…fond memories of you always dear Emma~~~
Emma and I were in the same grade, and she was always nice to me. She ended up graduating early, and she just blossomed into an incredible person. I’m so glad that she started to use her words to talk about mental health, because it’s something that so many people struggle with, and not a lot want to talk about it openly. May her words and soul live on. RIP Emma
I was so saddened to learn of this tragic news on Monday night. My thoughts and prayers go out to Emma’s parents. Emma was such a beautiful and gifted young lady. I will never forget the time I spent with her in my classroom. Rest in peace, Emma.
I am so sad for your loss. I remember the beautiful little girl across the street on Rollins. I will keep your family in my thoughts and prayers. My heart hurts for you all.
Emma, one year ago today was our second date. And I don’t need to tell you why that day was so important; it’s enough just to note here that it was then that we found each other.
I’m still sad. I’m still angry. I’m still regretful. I ache in the most absurd new ways. I still need to know what to do, if only you could make that any more clear to me. But I know you have… Of course, I know.
The fact is, I’m standing with one foot saying you’ve died and one foot knowing you’re still alive, and the tension has me simultaneously lonely and loved. What I mean is, I find myself thinking of you in both ways, and in any given moment, I feel like I’ve lost the greatest thing in life and yet like I have not; like I still have you. And while I know the latter is true, it’s in a form that I still need to understand.
In the meantime, I mourn you. And you know this. I don’t need to tell you that.
Emma, we were best friends. That’s not to claim you as my own; but we were best friends in our own way, in the way that we were. Nobody has ever understood me so well; nobody has ever read me so clearly; nobody has ever penetrated my soul so acutely as you did to make me love and laugh and feel so at peace. To know you is to find myself. This is friendship, and it is ours.
I found myself tonight wanting to talk to you, but I feel so inadequate because you deserve only the best words and I give only the ones I can find. While searching and yearning for what to say, I made it back to your apartment in my mind. I think you must have delivered that memory directly to me now, because it was far too clear to have been eleven months ago. You were getting ready for work in the morning, dressed so nice for the Hilton, the most beautiful girl in the world. We shared a Naked juice, a Butterfinger, and a Twix. The usual, this you know.
And I can’t complete the memory without crying still and I thought it had been so long but how can it ever be long enough when the physical world presently lacks you and the effects are inescapably present?
Everybody I know now knows the word “pithy.” And I tell it to them because it’s a touchstone to you. One of a billion, but special because it’s one I want to become. When you used that word with me, I gripped it immediately and haven’t let go for a moment since; and that’s because it is you (I knew immediately) and it is the mark of good communication. Communication was your strong suit; it still is, evidently, because you speak to me everywhere. And just as back then, you speak directly to my heart with forceful concision; you are still so pithy.
What I will not do is reduce you to that word. Closer to describing you would be loving. Then I would say pithy, witty, clever, funny, beautifully childlike, honest, fun, exciting. But see, that’s just a list of adjectives; it’s not good enough. But what ever could be?
All I know truly is that you are ineffable. And you are still alive. Nothing is more certain to me. Healer that you are (your name does mean this, as you told me), I know that you are my muse; you will help me and inspire me to become the person I need to be. I wouldn’t want life to go on without you, and thankfully, it will not. For you are here.
Emma, I’m sorry. I will always be sorry. You have been the greatest gift to me in this life and I am perpetually thankful for that. One day, I will make you proud. I’ll keep trying. Keep an eye on me. And on your family and friends as well; they love you. Just keep an eye on us.
Love,
Ethan