The following is a selection of tributes made in Shelley's honor at his memorial service on August 21, 2007. Rabbi Earl Grollman led the service and spoke without notes, so we are unable to post his moving and eloquent words.

This is an attempt to piece together my words from my father's funeral.

Hello, I am Evan Seevak.

I am my father's son.

When Sarah and I told our children that their Zayde, who just three
weeks ago had been wrestling with Nate and planning a sleepover
together, had died, Nate looked at me and summarized what many of us
feel. He said "I did not want to hear that news."

The next day, Sarah was speaking with Abigail, and Abigail commented
"When I hear Zayde's voice, I feel like I am home."

Emma wrote two cinquains in memory of her Zayde:

The last time I saw my father was about a month ago when he came up to visit me at my new home in Cambridge.

He would do this often…come up for the day simply to spend time with me and with Gabe. He was truly devoted to both of us. He never wanted to do anything special when he visited. He would say he just had to see us every so often.

He was happiest playing poker on the floor with Gabe, reading his newspaper in my living room, or “hanging out” as he called it. He loved picking Gabe up at school, walking to a nearby restaurant for a meal with us, or just talking. He loved to be a part of our lives in simple ways.

I've heard a rumor that when I was growing up, my father worked long hours, that he was a driven, deal-making investment banker who travelled all the time. But that's not what I remember. In my mind, my father was always with me. He pitched whiffleball after whiffleball to me in our backyard. When I was in kindergarten, he once spent several hours sitting outside a classmate's birthday party in our parked Country Squire, trying to convince shy 6 year old me that it was safe to go inside.

I am Amy Singer - sister of Elinor and sister in law of Shelley

When I spoke at Shelley's "Celebration of Life" I had made only cryptic notes of my feelings the day he died. I hadn't intended to really share my thoughts. When I decided to get up, I spoke from my heart, but will try to recreate what I said. I recall I spoke directly to Shelley.

I’m Judi Freeman. I am proud to say that I hold the Seevak Chair at Boston Latin School. I am deeply honored that Ellie and the Seevak family asked me to share some thoughts about Shelley.

Just the other day, at the Holocaust Museum in Washington, I heard Shelley make some characteristically articulate and inspired remarks. Of course, typical for him, they were off the cuff. Were I to try to do that right now, I’d completely lose my composure. So, please bear with me as I read.

Shelley was my big brother - for as long as I can remember he has been what a big brother is meant to be - a major teaser - a playmate - a competitor - a source of great pride - and always, always, the one I knew I could turn to.

The kind of games we played changed over the years. When we were little, we played airplane under the dining room table and circus on the living room couch (a plant was a casualty of that). When we were teen agers, he might walk on the other side of the street to avoid being seen with his little sister. But at home we'd play football - guess who would win - and I knew that I could push against him as hard as I could and he would always be gentle with me. He was then and forever a strong and gentle man.

As I was browsing the tributes to my Uncle Shel on the Facing History website it was obvious that he had impacted so many folks- a large percentage of whom he had only spoken to briefly or never even met. I was thinking how fortunate I was to have him as an integral part of my entire life.

My childhood is full of memories of Uncle Shel since he and Aunt Ellie along with Alison and then, Marina lived just a few towns over from us. I got the attention normally given a son. He even tried to get me to come live with them in South Orange, and he almost got me for a pair of pants and a couple of cardigan sweaters.