Albert "Al" Sumner Oster

A Two-Year Ode to Albert Sumner “Al” Oster Abraham ShlomoMarch 4, 2026

Two years have passedsince time split in two—before and after,light and shadow,laughter and the echo of it.

Albert, our Big Al,your absence is not silence.It is a presence—vast as the sky over Rehoboth,steady as the tide that keeps returningthough you do not.

You were larger than life,yet it was never your height that defined you.It was the reach of your heart.Six foot six and still growing—not just into your body,but into your becoming.Into justice.Into compassion.Into the man the world was just beginning to see.

You carried a philosopher’s mindinside a gentle giant’s frame.Quick-witted, reflective,able to hold grief and humorin the same breath.You could disarm despairwith a perfectly timed joke,turn tension into laughter,and make the unbearablefeel survivable.

You noticed the unseen.You stopped for the weary strangeroutside the gas station.You listened.You saw their humanity.You gave your favorite shirtto bind a wounded rider’s armwithout hesitation,as if generosity was simply instinct—as natural to you as breathing.

And perhaps it was.

You were loyal beyond reason,tender beyond measure,protective without pride.If someone hurt,you felt it.If someone struggled,you showed up.No spotlight.No announcement.Just steady, quiet love.

You dreamed of law—not for prestige,but for fairness.For children caught in stormsthey did not create.For the ones who felt smallinside complicated systems.You wanted to balance scalesthat had tipped too far.You wanted justiceto feel like mercy.

Even in your youththere were glimmers—not just of potential,but of purpose.

On courts and fields,you were the Osterizer—strength, skill, determination.But even there,it was never about dominance.It was about heart.Team.Improvement.Joy.

You lifted weights,but you also lifted people.You played chess,but you also studied the deeper moves of life.You surfed waves,laughed at memes,roasted your brother,cuddled your dogs,sat by the oceanas if listening for something eternalin its rhythm.

Perhaps you were.

Two years later,we still reach for you in the smallest moments—in inside jokes,in the hush before a punchline,in the simple miracleof being together.

You used to say,“At least we are together and have each other.”And now we understandyou were teaching uswhat mattered most.

Your death remains senseless.There is no poetry that can justify it,no reasoning that can soften it.But meaning—meaning is something we choose to buildfrom the love you left behind.

We find itwhen we sit beside someone in pain.When we advocate for minds in crisis.When we choose compassion over indifference.When we speak for those who feel unheard.When we protect the vulnerable.When we laugh through tearsbecause that is what you would do.

You are not only what we lost.You are what we carry forward.

Your light did not end;it scattered—into us.Into every act of courage,every moment of unexpected kindness,every effort to make this worldmore just,more gentle,more aware.

We mourn the man you would have become.We ache for the milestones unrealized,the courtroom victories unwon,the beach sunsets unseen.But we are fiercely proudof the man you already were.

Albert—Avraham Shlomo—beloved son, brother, friend.May you feel perfect peace.May you know how profoundlyyou are loved.May you rest wrappedin the embrace of the Eternal.

And until we meet again,we will carry your laughter in our lungs,your compassion in our hands,your courage in our choices.

Your loss is immeasurable.But so is your light.

And it still shines.