In Memory of My Mother
On April 23, 2011, my mother finally passed away from this world. She had been in a nursing home for the last 9 years after having suffered a series of debillitating strokes at the age of 64. Alcohol was a major contributor to her health problems, but for 9 years she was unable to speak, swallow, walk or take care of herself in any way. Some people suggested it was some kind of retribution for the life that she had led and how it had, at times, affected others. I don’t think so. I don’t believe the God I know would intentionally do this to someone and I usually told them so.
When I was asked to write a eulogy I knew I had to try and be brief, but I also wanted to let those same people glimpse the woman I felt I knew better than anyone. I didn’t re-write history, but I think I sent a message, nontheless. What I did write didn’t say it all by any means. It didn’t tell her whole story and wasn’t intended to do so. I am currently working on another draft to do just that.
The following is what I wrote and what I stood up and read for her:
Our mother was a simple yet complicated woman. She was full of contradictions. She was strong and tough, yet, vulnerable and soft. Focused and driven, yet sometimes restless and confused. No matter what, she had a lust for life and was passionate and full of emotion. She loved bright colored clothes, convertible cars, music, sewing, animals, flowers, thunderstorms, Elvis and had an appreciation for anyone she thought was a handsome man.
Mom was a vibrant and, sometimes strikingly, beautiful woman. She always tried to look her best and each of us have fond memories of watching her work hard at it, whether it was playing with different hairstyles, or “putting on her face” to cover her freckles. She had a great smile that will never be forgotten. It could light up a room during a blackout. It made our day if we could make her laugh or just share a laugh with her. She loved to laugh and had a warm, yet sometimes wicked, sense of humor.
Her most outstanding feature, though, was her sparkling eyes. She could convey so much emotion with her eyes. As kids, we always knew how mom felt by looking at, or into, them. With her eyes and the movement of one eyebrow or the other you could read her mood and tell if she was happy, sad, tired, frightened or mad. She didn’t have to say a word, and even if she did, her eyes always told the truth. They were beautiful, but more important, especially over these last years when the sparkle was gone and she couldn’t communicate verbally, or move her body, her eyes were definitely still the windows to her soul.
Like any mother she was proud of her children. She thought of us as her “intelligent dreamer”, her “mischievous, handsome, pretty boy” and her “little princess”. We all grew up thinking that one of the others was her favorite, which had to be difficult for her to achieve. It’s every parent’s dream for their children to have a better life than they’ve had. She told me once, on a visit to Chicago, that all her children had made her proud and had turned out to be better than even she could have ever hoped and she marveled at how we accomplished all that we had. She didn’t realize that she had taught us to be independent, individual personalities who could survive and, even thrive on, any adversity.
Mom loved her pets; in fact, Mom had a soft spot for almost any animal, proven by the fact that she claimed to have even had a “pet” chicken when she was a little girl. She just didn’t feel like she truly had a home unless she had a dog, and anyone would have loved to have been one of her pets. Several times she wanted to try and make a living by breeding dogs, and tried, but I honestly think she found it too emotionally exhausting to have to part with the puppies after 8 weeks with them.
In her later years, she had her grandchildren. She danced with little James at Susie’s wedding and truly regretted and missed being able to see him grow up. She played with her Melanie Rosie and her Michael, and called me at least every hour as I drove from Chicago with updates on the labor and delivery of Maria. Macy only got to visit and know her in the nursing home, but knowing Macy as I do, I know she, too, lit up Mom’s life just as much her three siblings, and has the added bonus of looking a lot like her.
Whether they do it intentionally, or not, our parents teach us by example. From our mother we learned to be accepting, tolerant, and passionate. Passionate about all that we do and all that we believe, sometimes to the point of being stubborn. She taught us to be strong and independent and to stand up for ourselves. And, there are some things we can only learn from a loving parent. Mom taught me about forgiveness. I learned from her that giving it, AND asking for it has many healing qualities. And it takes courage, I guess, either way. It is the salve for many wounds and can set so many people free.
Last week, as I sat holding her hand and reminisced and talked to her caregivers about her life I realized, again, how colorful her life was and how it colored all of ours, too. These stories are rich with emotion both, hers and ours. Years from now we will still be able to laugh, or sadly smile, and reminisce about some of these stories together and that is another good thing she left with us …memories to share…memories that certainly have added some color to our lives.
And we loved her, each of us in our own way, and in a way that only we can understand.
Rest in Peace, Mom.
