Eulogy for Mom

In Memory of My Mother, Marie

As a child when I was upset, crying, she would sit me on her lap in the rocking chair, holding me as she rocked, singing softly, "You Are My Sunshine."  This is my most precious childhood memory of her.

Most of my adult life has been spent living out of state from her.  During that time she was busy trying to support herself after spending most of her life as a housewife and mother.  With no real work experience or knowing how to be on her own, she managed to become self-sufficient, independent woman.  A remarkable feat or her age and upbringing.

She had a knack finding unusual gifts that were a perfect fit both personally and functionally.  At first, I thought them odd then they turned out to be exactly what I needed.

In conversation, she would unexpectedly surprise me with profound and wise advice. Pretty remarkable for someone who spent little time out in the world.

She never visited anyone empty-handed, didn't have a mean bone in her body and was often taken advantage of but never held a grudge.  She spent a lot of time keeping records of everyone's birthdays, anniversaries, holidays and special occasions and never forgot to send a card to honor them and let them know she was thinking of them.

The things that drove me nuts about her, as the years progressed become endearing traits that I could laugh about.  Have you ever been a passenger in the car with her?  Then you know what I mean.

About this time a few years back, she fell down the basement stairs suffering a severe head injury and we almost lost her.  I was on my way to visit her for the holidays when it happened and ended up extending my visit several more weeks to help her while she recovered.  I am grateful for that time.  It brought me closer to her than I'd ever been before.

Carol was the rock who took care of the day to day needs and caring for Mom, which was quite a time consuming responsibility -- and was consistently there for her right to the end.  I know Mom is extremely grateful for all she did for her and had mentioned it to me from time to time.

When you see your parents age, and you observe the circle of life -- parents, siblings, their children, their children's children, it really is something to behold.  Family is precious.

Mom may not have been the June Cleaver type, but she was loving, caring and supportive, often in ways that weren't so obvious -- in her own way.  She was funny and fun-loving.

During our many calls over the last several years, I'd ask her how she felt and she replied, "with my hands."  Cracked me up because it was so unexpected and her delivery was like a seasoned comedian.  She was one of a kind and every time I spoke to her it was a gift.

She has been through so much, especially when it came to physical injuries.  We all know she has a hard head!  She lived her life in her own way and always rose to the occasion when meeting a challenge.  She paid more attention to details than the big picture and that too was her way.

I believe when she passed, her mother, Angela, was there to take her hand.

Now she can see and hear perfectly, dance and sing as she loved to do and be in perfect health.  

She'll spend her time playing bingo, doing crafts like making those crazy topiary trees, take in some bowling (think of her when you hear thunder, she just bowled a strike), followed by a hot fudge sundae.  

Maybe she'll bake her specialties -- German Chocolate Cake from scratch and that yummy Tunnel of Fudge Cake or some Christmas cookies with Aunt Yolanda.   Don't forget that jello concoction that was a must at all events which took her hours to assemble.  There's always room for jello.

She will have no trouble staying up all night, watching old movies and talking about their stars and writing for hours on little slips of paper.  In hind sight, I wish I had the chance to go through her writings because they represented what she felt was important enough to her to document.  To the average person they may have been nonsense scribbling, but as a writer, I can see the value in them.  They could be the basis of inspiration for a book or script and  become a runaway hit.  As a daughter, they would have been a window into the human being my mother was.

I love her dearly.   At the end of our telephone conversations we had a little ritual where we said good night and goodbye in Italian and French then I would say, "I love you Mom" and she would reply, "I love you more."   It warmed my heart and I felt the love she was sending me as she said it. 

I will surely miss her voice saying that to me, her sense of humor and her presence here on Earth.

But we will continue to hang out in my dreams where all things are possible.

I love you more, Mom.  God bless you and keep you safe.