Mom's Eulogy
Like many families, the public face of ours looked different than its inner workings. We were very complicated and the ripples ran deep. In my early twenties I went AWOL and didn’t speak with Mom for almost two years. But after having my own child and accruing some life experiences, many of which paralleled Mom’s, she and I started hashing things out.
During Mom’s and my first effort at reconciliation I shared my deepest disappointments about our family with the finesse of a cannon ball. Mom apologized through her tears and then leaned towards me unflinching and simply said, “I will do whatever it takes to have a good relationship with you.” That was all I needed. I was in for the long haul.
For the next thirty years Mom and I worked together to understand each other but I didn’t really know her until she moved in with Juan and me. In the face of dementia’s steady erosion of her mind and body Mom giggled - she cried too and got depressed, but mostly she giggled. Now mind you, Mom used to beat the boys at roller skating contests. She could shimmy up to the ceiling on the ropes in the gym. And in her early eighties she tromped through the fields gathering wildflowers with her Garden Club buddies to make dried arrangements and was still climbing trees to hang houses for her birds.
But even with all she must have missed, Mom giggled when she couldn’t get to the bathroom in time. She had us in stitches as she and Juan poked fun at each other. She marveled at the birds and wind and clouds every day. She checked in regularly to make sure Juan and I were doing all right and she laughed about what she couldn’t remember. “What else can I do?” she stated.
Mom always led with the best of intentions. She was a sweetheart and she gave her kids the benefit of the doubt. As I cared for Mom I, too, had the best of intentions but found myself wanting on so many levels. I was hard on myself but Mom was always generous and accepting of my efforts. On tough days when my patience ran thin, Mom would simply ask me, without a hint of anger in her voice, to "just calm down."
It was in having to accept my shortcomings that I more deeply understood the dimensions of motherhood and of being human, its perfections and imperfections. If the definition of perfect is being without fault then no one I know is perfect. But if we were to consider perfection as residing in one’s willingness to persist, one’s patience with the unfolding of people and life, and one’s acceptance of others, then Mom embodied perfection.
My brothers and I will carry some of Mom’s traits into our lives, as will our children.
Mom’s creative soul will be sorely missed but she is in our cells. We are part of her legacy. I only hope we can have as much grace and humor as Mom had and be as kind.
Mom’s last words of advice to me were "Don’t dig in the garden too hard, let Juan help you. Drink lots of water and breath, but most of all make sure you sit down and look at what you’ve done." Such good words to live by.
Thank you Mom for everything. We will miss you!
http://bigguys.zenfolio.com/p786714363
During Mom’s and my first effort at reconciliation I shared my deepest disappointments about our family with the finesse of a cannon ball. Mom apologized through her tears and then leaned towards me unflinching and simply said, “I will do whatever it takes to have a good relationship with you.” That was all I needed. I was in for the long haul.
For the next thirty years Mom and I worked together to understand each other but I didn’t really know her until she moved in with Juan and me. In the face of dementia’s steady erosion of her mind and body Mom giggled - she cried too and got depressed, but mostly she giggled. Now mind you, Mom used to beat the boys at roller skating contests. She could shimmy up to the ceiling on the ropes in the gym. And in her early eighties she tromped through the fields gathering wildflowers with her Garden Club buddies to make dried arrangements and was still climbing trees to hang houses for her birds.
But even with all she must have missed, Mom giggled when she couldn’t get to the bathroom in time. She had us in stitches as she and Juan poked fun at each other. She marveled at the birds and wind and clouds every day. She checked in regularly to make sure Juan and I were doing all right and she laughed about what she couldn’t remember. “What else can I do?” she stated.
Mom always led with the best of intentions. She was a sweetheart and she gave her kids the benefit of the doubt. As I cared for Mom I, too, had the best of intentions but found myself wanting on so many levels. I was hard on myself but Mom was always generous and accepting of my efforts. On tough days when my patience ran thin, Mom would simply ask me, without a hint of anger in her voice, to "just calm down."
It was in having to accept my shortcomings that I more deeply understood the dimensions of motherhood and of being human, its perfections and imperfections. If the definition of perfect is being without fault then no one I know is perfect. But if we were to consider perfection as residing in one’s willingness to persist, one’s patience with the unfolding of people and life, and one’s acceptance of others, then Mom embodied perfection.
My brothers and I will carry some of Mom’s traits into our lives, as will our children.
- John can fix anything he sets his mind to and he unwittingly makes many of Mom’s facial expressions.
- Fred always shows up on time year after year after year and he uses the same indefinite responses Mom used like "Maybe" or "Something like that" to questions that seek a "Yes" or "No" answer.
- Jeff would give his left arm to a neighbor in need and he gets energized by the drama of a good storm even though he hates the hassle.
- I love wildflowers and whenever I eat out at a restaurant I carefully stack my dirty dishes, put the salt and pepper shakers back, and wipe the table with my napkin so it’s not messy for the waitress.
- And none of us clean our houses well but we all recycle!
Mom’s creative soul will be sorely missed but she is in our cells. We are part of her legacy. I only hope we can have as much grace and humor as Mom had and be as kind.
Mom’s last words of advice to me were "Don’t dig in the garden too hard, let Juan help you. Drink lots of water and breath, but most of all make sure you sit down and look at what you’ve done." Such good words to live by.
Thank you Mom for everything. We will miss you!
http://bigguys.zenfolio.com/p786714363