Celebration

Today is two weeks. And I think the shock is starting to wear off. And that scares me because I'm not prepared for the tidal emotions that are going to swamp me. I don't do unknown very well. I don't really know how to just be with an emotion and not try to control it. I do feel like I need to keep writing to keep everything from damming up.

Mom's funeral was private, just us and her siblings. It was a beautiful day and we all wore splashes of purple, her favorite color. I may have surprised everyone with my reading - when it came down to it, I couldn't find a poem that resonated with me, or felt like it was something mom would like. So I read Goodnight Moon - her favorite book to read to the grandkids. It felt perfect. And besides, by now you should know...I don't always like to follow the rules.

Mom's Celebration of Life was truly that. Over 400 people came in testament of the many lives she touched. It was very overwhelming, like panic attack overwhelming, because we got there after nearly everyone had arrived and it was like walking into a room full of love - all pointed in my direction. It was wonderful and horrible at the same time. Only horrible because of why we were all there in the first place. We four all got up and spoke. I think we did a great job and I know my mom was there, just out of the corner of my eye, beaming with pride for her kids.

Here is my talk:

I’d like to add my thanks that you’ve joined us today to celebrate mom. She loved a good party. Before I start, I’d like you to share something with you – mom liked me best.



Mothers are a sacred, complicated, lovely mess of emotions. My mom was no exception. But above all, my mom was my touchstone. The comforting and constant center of gravity upon which my life has always revolved.


There were times in my life when I couldn’t get close enough to mom or get enough time. On the other hand, I’m the one that moved away. Given the freedom to go by mom, who never held us back, and let us choose our own way. If we faltered, we had to pick ourselves back up, but she was always there to listen to our troubles and offer some tough love advice, and maybe a cookie or two. I have never regretted the choice I’ve made to live life just a bit apart. But I admit that during these last years I have often wished the miles were fewer, the homecoming more routine. Then again… mom didn’t like us to hover. And she wasn’t shy about telling us that.


When mom first found out she had breast cancer, she told me that she wasn’t ready to go yet. Too much life left to live and of course, there were grandchildren to enjoy. We hadn’t had a child yet and she said that was one of the things she was looking forward to, so we obliged with Colin. But after learning that this time it was lung cancer, the tune was a little different. This time it was about quality of life and building good memories.
As we supported mom in her fight, I often found myself trying to hold on to that childhood certainty that my parents will always be there, no matter how far I venture or how many years I add to my own life. I avoided statistics. I cried at hallmark commercials. Because she did so well, for so long - the last weeks and days went by even more quickly. I knew that we were running out of time but as I told mom, we didn’t have a lot that was unsaid between each other. Of course, there is always more to be said, but the big things had been covered.


My mom was born to be a mom. She always seemed to know what to do, and if she didn’t she made it up with complete confidence. I always enjoyed listening to her and her friends and marveled at the way she could strike up a conversation with anyone. I see those same traits in my sister Angela. I loved her laughter, and her great sense of humor. I admired the dedication she gave to this museum, the legacy of my grandpa. I know that lives on in my brother Rusty. Mom was confident in her views and not afraid to let them be known. She took pride in doing things well. Anyone who has met my brother Tony knows that they have that in common.


When I think about what I share with my mom, creativity comes to mind. And taking certain enjoyment in doing things just a little differently thank expected.


Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue. And the dreams that mom dreamt - a partner in life who made her laugh, a large close family, and grandchildren aplenty – came true. I didn’t ask mom to stay, knowing that her journey had reached its end and that she was tired. But I will always look for her in the sunset, in the stars and in my heart – and cherish the moments when I feel her close again.

(this picture is "Mom's sunset" - she sent it to us the evening she died.)