Dear Austin,

You are so stubborn.You stubbornly loved me when I did not love myself; you loved me when I denied I loved you; you loved me even when you could not stand me. That stubborn love, that mulish, persistent love forced me to be better. I wanted so badly to become somebody worthy of such unconditional love. I still want to become somebody worthy of that loyalty and devotion.

In many ways, you were better than me. I was more savvy, but you were better in part because to you savviness didn't matter that much. To you, so many things I said made no sense because they struck you as dishonest and stupid; they did not fit in with your compassionate rationality. You made me ashamed of my hypocrisies but helped me to overcome them.

I wish desperately every day that you were still here to hold me, to help me cry, and then to help me improve so that I wouldn't need that help as much later on. I miss you horribly and everything reminds me of you. The other day, there was a snowstorm that occurred during fluctuating weather, causing the snow to be very icy and glimmer in the trees in a way I had never seen before and I wanted to hear your specific hypothesis. I am having a difficult time communicating with a mutual friend of ours and wish you would just roll your eyes at me until I dealt with it. I cannot go to a concert in Rockefeller chapel and put my coat down on my left side because that is where you would sit and to fill that space with anything else feels horribly wrong.

I know I am rambling, but that is what our conversations were like, leaping from topic to topic and back again afterwards. I love you, now and always.

While visiting with some friends in Albuquerque over winter break, we ended up playing a game of Scrabble. We of course couldn't play without talking about how good Austin was at Scrabble and Words with Friends online. Austin was tough to beat, because the game is a combination of vocabulary and strategy--perfect for Austin. You never felt bad about losing to Austin, though, because you always knew that he was all about the joy associated with playing the game with his friends, not about winning. I think these words games are a perfect testament to how Austin treated the ones he loved and to Austin's joy and love for fun.

Austin's Memorial

We, including our good friend Jo, cared for Austin and Aidan in their early life. We are part of an unbroken chain of love that has surrounded them always. Gregg, Laurie, Austin and Aidan really are the most amazing, giving, caring family. But you all know that, have been touched by their love. We are so lucky to be a part of that. Their wider family too; Austin's grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and family friends have always been so warm, so welcoming and so inclusive of us, and we appreciate them wholeheartedly for that.

Jo was Austin's first nanny. Jo cannot be here today although she would dearly love to be. She is with us in her support, her love and her thoughts and she went to Gregg, Laurie and Aidan in their time of greatest need and we will be forever grateful for that.

Austin was six weeks old when Jo arrived. They shared a profound love and connection and here are a few of her words:

"How to articulate a love that lives on so deep in me, perhaps all the more, for knowing I can never again express it to him. I must use that energy in my movements and actions towrds others. So much easier said than done. I'd trade anything to look into his eyes again, tell a tale, make him laugh, watch him enjoy a dish that he didn't think he'd like but tried anyway. We loved him before we, or he even knew who he was, or was to become"


I am Emily. I have loved Austin since he was very small; for all of my adult life. I was his nanny from 14 months to 26 months. I would like to share some memories with you.

It is a cliche that children go through the'why?' stage and people often jokingly groan about this. I remember we were all together when Austin was four. One of us casually wondered which country was on the other side of the world. Australia is on the other side of the world from England, so we joke of digging a tunnel and popping up there. We were all sat on the sidewalk and Austin seized on this remark and asked why, and why, and why until all of our admittedly limited knowledge of sub-strata and geography was exhausted. It was all new ideas to him but our answers were absorbed and seriously considered and he wanted more, and more, and more of this precious stuff- knowledge. He loved it, he thrived on it, he needed it. 

I happened to be in the playground with him the day he understood and could process the concept of counting for himself. You could see it in his eyes; that lightbulb moment. The expression which played across his face in that moment has come back to me, a gift, with utter clarity as I wrote this down. Wonderment, joy and eagerness to share the sensation was shown in his eyes, the tilt of his head; questioning that I understood and gladness that I did.

Austin would play a game where he would put his arm up his sleeve and into the body of his shirt. You would then have to ask with mock alarm 'Where is Austin's Arm' and look for it. He would then then deftly pull it back through and wave his arm truimphantly and dissolve into giggles, his eyes shining with happiness. We would repeat this many times and the more effort we both put into this performance the more we both enjoyed it. He was hilarious.

Austin was incredibly lovely. I have tried to distil the essence of this into words but I cannot. It will suffice to give you the bulletpoint I started with and know that you can provide your own resonant mental images of this from your own memory, or from the stories and pictures on the Remembering Austin site: HIS SMILE, HIS EYES, HIS TRUST, HIS GIVING NATURE.

So to re-cap Austin was smart, Austin was passionate, Austin was funny and Austin was sweet. The two year old Austin was just the same person as he has always been ever since. I recognise his essence in every story I have ever heard about him and in every achievement. I have always taken such pride in my small but important part in his upbringing.

It is the way, and how fully we live our lives which is important. Achieving our potential, being caring, being forgiving of ourselves and others, knowing and challenging our natures, being present, loving life. Austin showed us this throughout his too short life. I carry him always in my heart, in my actions and how I raise my children. I love you Gregg, Ilove you Laurie, I love you Aidan, I LOVE YOU AUSTIN.

It is one of the first beautiful fall days in Chicago. I can still hear the cicadas’ song which is becoming noticeably weaker each day. I hear the leaves scattering across the sidewalks with the wind. Summer has ended in Chicago. And I still find myself reflecting on the death of a young man who died in Chicago at the beginning of this summer, and of his family.

In Chicago, we are pummeled in the news daily with yet another tragic death of a young person, often by gunfire. Then there are the equally numerous, painful losses due to car accidents and drownings. It seemed there were a lot of deaths of young people in Lake Michigan this summer. These daily and wrenching accounts of young lives cut short become numbing. We read these stories and perhaps send up silent prayers for the families. Most of us then move on to the next news story and on with our lives. The toll of these daily losses forces us to become almost immune to the sadness of so many young deaths.

I did not know Austin. I do not know his family. Yet the news of his heartbreaking death saddened me deeply.

Austin’s story struck a personal chord with me. The picture of his beaming face at White Sox Park alongside his dad reminded me so much of a family member who similarly is always completely immersed in the joy of the moment no matter what he is doing, with a radiant smile to match. Austin’s boyish face and smile could easily have belonged to someone I knew and loved.

I also could relate to the stories of Austin’s fascination with weather. I have a son who also preferred watching the Weather Channel when he was a little boy over any other program—and which was often on at our house seemingly nonstop. My then preschool son would keep us abreast of upcoming—usually dire--weather conditions, in painstakingly and endless detail. Only other true Weather Channel aficionados can understand why Jim Cantore was a god in our house and why we were shushed into silence if Jim was expounding on some potential weather disaster.

I knew well the experience of having a son with a passion and enormous knowledge for all things weather. And I distinctly recalled my son speaking excitedly about the weather on June 12, 2013, as I drove him to the train that morning, stating there was a forecast of a possible derecho—an unusual and threatening large storm formation. When I subsequently heard on the news that Austin, a University of Chicago student, was missing while likely seeking out the weather that evening, I thought of my own son who would also have determinedly sought out that type of extreme weather experience regardless of personal safety concerns.

So I anxiously followed Austin’s story and of the heartbreaking discovery of his death. I grieved inwardly for this young man whom I did not know, and for his family, whose sorrow and anguish I could not begin to imagine.

But I do know what it’s like to love a child fiercely with every fiber of my being. I know what it’s like to love my children more than my own life. And I absolutely know that the loss of any child leaves an aching and unfillable hole in a parent’s heart that has to be cruelly recalled each and every day thereafter. A terrible loss and an unfathomable pain that every parent prays never to experience.

But I have also seen the enduring love for a child, for Austin, that is so much stronger than death. When Austin’s family almost immediately started sharing the many pictures, stories of friends and families, and even some personal family videos of Austin with his family, his family’s unwavering love for Austin pulled some of the essence of who Austin was into other people’s lives and hearts, including those of strangers like myself. It was astonishing to me that Austin’s family were able to share so many wonderful and intimate memories of Austin for anyone who wanted to know who he was, during what could only be the darkest moments of their lives. And it is this abiding family love for Austin that steadfastly survives his death, continuing to bring Austin into other’s lives, even those who never met him.

What I now have learned about Austin from those stories and memories is that he was a brilliant, loving and kind college student. He loved weather, numbers and classical music. He was not a fashion plate with his too-short pants and white socks. He was a deeply loved son, brother and friend. And like any son, brother and friend, he had wonderful talents and his own unique quirks.

Most importantly, as Austin’s parents and family so tenderly and lovingly depict, he was just a great kid. Everyone really needs to know that about him most of all, because he was their son and brother who they loved, and will always love, with all of their hearts and fibers of their beings. That never-ending love radiates in and through every picture, story and recollection shared. That they miss Austin more than words can ever adequately convey is achingly palpable. And to intimately know that kind of intense and boundless love in our own lives for our own children means that we strangers, too, can and should also grieve his loss.

I am driving my son to the train on what is probably one of the last of the truly spectacularly warm days of this early Chicago autumn. My son points to the numerous “cumulonimbus” clouds approaching over the horizon. He is explaining, in exacting detail, why they are often called anvil clouds. I look at the majestic white clouds slowly winding their way to Chicago and towards Lake Michigan. And I think of Austin and how he would most likely also have taken time to admire and appreciate the beauty and magnitude of the colossal clouds.

However, I think not just of Austin but also of the indomitable and forever love of his family and how that also continues to resonate with me on this beautiful fall day. Truly, a love that is far greater and stronger than death.

- Anonymous post to RememberingAustin.com

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To whoever wrote this post, you have our deepest thanks and love. Austin's Memorial is Oct 21st at 6:30pm at the Rockefeller Chapel at UChicago. We hope you and your family can join us.

Austin - Just wanted to let you know that hearing about your scientific talents and great heart from your Mom inspires me to be a better, more involved mentor to the students and residents who come my way. I can only imagine what an amazing person she raised as she has inspired me so much in such a short time. We've had some great storms in ABQ lately, and knowing how much you loved crazy weather, as do I, they make me think of you even though we never met.  - Kate

My heart goes out to the entire Hudson-Lapore family. What an amazing family.

Austin touched my life through working with his mother, Laurie. I was Department Administrator in her department for two years. This was a time that I struggled to find a balance as a working mother with an infant/toddler and a challenging job, and Laurie’s example was a beacon to me. She helped me by sharing her insights and stories – I always came away from each conversation feeling like a better person and parent. I don’t know how she does it, but she has a way of talking about her kids with such pride but without bragging.

I never got to meet Austin, but I know what an amazing person he was by knowing his mom. There were two stories in particular that Laurie shared that have stayed with me.

First, she told me how she always let her children tell HER when it was safe to cross a street. I thought this was an ingenious way to engage the kids, to be mindful of their surroundings and safety, and to apply it to others. Of course, we adopted this at our home, always asking my 3-year-old Luke to tell us when it’s safe to cross – he delights in informing us “There are NO cars!”

Second, she told me how when her daughter was on the way and Austin still a toddler, she got a baby doll and would hold/rock the doll while reading with Austin. Then when Aidan arrived, it was totally normal to Austin to continue sitting together reading, with a baby in her arms. I hope my family can emulate this someday.

My son, at 3, has some striking similarities to Austin, especially now that I’ve read many of Austin’s 3-year-old stories. Luke is a sweet and sensitive soul, kind but not without his strong feelings, likes plain food and baseball, and loves trucks (especially categorizing/classifying them – and boy, will he correct me when I mis-identify!). I hope that he will grow to be as kind and passionate as Austin was.

Laurie, Austin’s legacy has expanded to include my family through your wonderful stories. Thank you for sharing them.

Sergio and I have known Laurie since we were first-year graduate students at UNM in 2004. Immediately, she became our mentor and guide, and I asked her later to be in my dissertation committee. Through the years of interacting with her, we occasionally heard stories about both her children while they were growing up, mostly funny things they did. I looked up to Laurie because she was an example of a great scientist, who clearly was also a great mom and had managed her career and her personal life. Then, in the summer of 2011, I had the opportunity to meet and work with Austin in Dr. Karlett Parra’s lab, while I was a postdoc and he was a summer student. It was after his first year at U. of Chicago. The whole summer, I was impressed with Austin’s intellect, quick hands, and creativity in the lab. I loved his nerdy T-shirts, which inspired me to wear mine as well. While he was at the lab, we had long talks about his major and I strongly encouraged him to study biochemistry (although I thought he was going to pursue math or physics). A funny thing happened the day of the undergraduate student symposium at the end of the summer, that’s when I realized that he was Laurie’s son! She looked so proud of him that day, and they looked so much alike. The whole summer Austin never bragged about being his mother’s son. That was a humble quality about him. He gained his lab mates’ respect on his own merits as a brilliant “budding” scientist (he thought it was funny when I called him that because we worked with budding yeast). At the end of the summer I remember thinking that Austin will one day win a Nobel prize (no question in my mind).

We followed the news of his disappearance and then finally the sad ending to this brilliant young man’s life. The scientific community has lost the talent that would surely have solved some of humanities’ greatest problems. Laurie, we are so sorry for you and your family’s loss. You have been such a beacon of light in our lives, guiding us when we needed your help. We hope you and everyone who loved Austin will find comfort in the memories of such a wonderful human being, knowing that his time here was meaningful, and he touched our lives.

Our thoughts are with you,
Sergio and Leyma De Haro

I would like to express what a smart, motivated, and kind young man he was, and that his absence is a terrible loss. And of course our deepest condolences to his family and friends.

I didn't know Austin well, but he was in all the chemistry classes I've taken at UChicago. I do know that he's brilliant. And always so nice and polite. And interested and happy and positive. His death is so wrong and unfair. He is so deserving of life and would have gone on to do incredible things. He is missed and will continue to be for a very, very long time. Though I did not know Austin well, he made an impression on me as he did on so many who encountered him. I send my sincerest condolences to his family and friends. 

Hyde Park loves Austin and his family. 
I am a Hyde Parker and the mother of a 24 year old U of C graduate. 
I am also one of the huggers on the Tuesday before Austin was found - not only was I in tears when I saw Gregg in the Kimbark Plaza parking lot but so was the woman from the local news station. 
The email we received about Austin being missing struck a chord with me - I have a bright son who is curious - we love hiking in Colorado and my son and husband usually go on one hike that I am too chicken to go on - I usually am on pins and needles waiting for them to get home safely. 
The love shown by this family during their search and the wonderful pictures makes us all want to hold our loved ones closely. 
When I saw the Thank You Hyde Park posters, I was almost in tears at first but these last few days, they have filled me with joy. I don't believe in a higher power but the love of this family is the highest power.
Rest in peace Austin, Hyde Park loves you and your family.