Mom’s memorial service, which I would rather think of as a celebration of her life, was yesterday, April 7. These are the words I spoke at that service.
MOM
My mom was the oldest of four siblings, who were seven, nine, and 12 years younger than she was. My grandmother preferred to do the cooking and sewing and leave the child care to Mom. This resulted in two things. 1) When Mom got married she couldn’t cook or sew. Dad taught her to cook. She got so she could sew on buttons and hem a dress, but never became a seamstress like her sisters. And 2) when I became an adult she told me I didn’t have to have grandchildren for her. She loved John and me and I could bring grandchildren to visit, but “don’t think I’ll babysit them. I raised mine already,” she said. That may sound cruel, but it gave me permission to be who God called me to be and to remain single without guilt.
Mom grew up during the depression in Waterford, Connecticut. She loved to dance and always wished she had been able to take lessons. I think her one regret in marrying my dad was that he did not like to dance and had two left feet when he did.
They met at the submarine base in Groton, Connecticut after World War II. Mom began working there right after high school during the war. Dad was stationed there after spending the war in a sub in the Pacific. He was 6 ½ years older than she was – 27 to her 20 when she agreed to go out with him. After dad died, she told me she had turned him down several times because he had “bedroom eyes.”
They began dating in November 1945 and were married July 10, 1946 – only 15 days after she turned 21. She became a Navy wife, moving often until he retired 14 years later. Except for the years we lived in Great Lakes, Illinois, Dad had times of sea duty. During one six week cruise, John and I both had German measles and chickenpox. Dad wondered why Mom look so tired when he got home. When I was four and John a year and a half, Dad went on a six-month cruise. She packed us up and drove by herself from Norfolk back to Connecticut. She loved to drive.
In 1960, just before dad retired, they learned that my brother had Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. In these days before schools were required to bring disabled children to school, my mom took John every day beginning in the first grade. She brought him home for lunch then back to school and then picked him up at the end of the day. When he was in the fourth grade, he had to use a wheelchair. From that time on, she would lift John in and out of the wheelchair and in and out of the car using her own strength and then later on using a Hoyer lift, one in John’s room and another on the car roof. She made sure that he got to school every day. Even when authorities made it difficult for John to attend, she fought for him. Because of her John graduated on time with his high school class in 1971.
After he died in 1975, Mom and Dad became active in their Presbyterian Church in Warminster, Pennsylvania, outside of Philadelphia. At one point, Mom served as a deacon. Soon, with Mom as spokesperson and Dad ask quiet assistant, they taught disability awareness in churches in their presbytery. At the same time, Mom also became active in the Muscular Dystrophy Association. For several years, she ran the phone center at a local mall for the Jerry Lewis telethon. She was responsible for getting and feeding over 50 volunteers, counting pledges, as well as setting up and taking down the center. Before they moved south, she was honored by the Association. She even got a kiss from Philly pitcher, Tug McGraw, father of country singer Tim McGraw.
When my Dad retired, they moved to Beaufort and bought a small boat. They relished going out for the day to fish or crab or shrimp. They had two years of blissful retirement. In January 1985, they discovered Dad had prostate, then bladder cancer. He died two days before Christmas that same year.
Mom came and stayed with me for couple of months, but Beaufort was her home. She came back and developed her new life –– the first time she was ever alone with no one to care for. She developed a new life, which she imbued with enthusiasm and joy. She began singing in the church choir until her hips got too bad to climb the stairs. She sang and danced in the chorus of the Little Theater productions of My Fair Lady and Oliver. She loved those days and had a grand time.
About a year after Dad died, she told me that if she married again, she wanted a rich man who could dance. Several years later, she called to say, “If I ever tell you I’m getting married again, come down here immediately and see if I need to go to the home.”
My Mom was friendly and would talk to anyone. One time she was coming to my house from Danbury, Connecticut. There was a traffic jam on the Tappan Zee Bridge and she was stuck for over an hour. When she was able to travel again, she stopped at a diner to have lunch and use the facilities. Everyone else had the same idea. While she was eating, a woman asked her if she could sit at her table because it was crowded. Mom welcomed her and they began talking. An hour and a half later, Mom looked at her watch. “Oh, my goodness, my daughter will be wondering where I am.” She talked to a total stranger for an hour and a half.
Mom loved her independence. She was married for 39 years then she was a widow for over 31 years. Until her stroke, she played bridge twice a week. She worked in the library on Fridays for many years, transcribing a lady’s diaries from around the turn of the 20th century and then typing them into the computer. She was conscientious and corrected the mistakes that others made. She did water aerobics at the YMCA and loved to go to the beach at Hunting Island and walk along the shoreline. She was active in this church, where she took DISCIPLE, went to Sunday school, was a member of a women’s circle, and enjoyed Wednesday night suppers and programs. She loved the oyster roasts and other social gatherings.
Mom came to my house in New York or Pennsylvania for Christmas and in the summer almost every year. She drove in the winter until about 1993 when the snow trapped us together in a small parsonage for almost 7 weeks. One day there was a break in the weather. I hastened her out of the house so she could drive home. The snow closed in again quickly. She was forced to follow a snow plow off at an exit and take refuge in a motel for two days. Although she wasn’t happy about being stranded, that saved us from killing each other. After that, she flew and only stayed about a month.
Through her 87th birthday, Mom drove the 700 to 850 miles to my house by herself every summer and stayed for three or four weeks. Many of her friends tried to get her to stop. She always told them, “God is right here in the front seat with me.” I was always proud of her independence and courage and encouraged her to drive as long as she felt she could.
In the spring of 2013, we went to Disney World and had a great time together. We rode the rides and saw the shows. We left the room at about 10 in the morning and often did not return until that time at night. We ate, laughed and had one of the best times we had ever had together.
In November 2013, she had a stroke that left her with aphasia and slower cognitive processes. She worked hard at physical and speech therapy and became much better. The therapists loved her because she would work at anything they suggested. Her smile and positive attitude made her many friends. After her rehab, I brought her home to live with me in Pennsylvania. She continued with therapy in Clearfield and brought joy to the therapists who came to the house. They enjoyed having someone who looked forward to therapy and gave it her all. I retired in June 2015 and brought her home to Beaufort. Even here, she continued therapy, always trying to get stronger and speak more clearly.
She loved the water. She loved to ride out to the beach just to watch the waves and smell the salt air. We would ride out to Brickyard Point and Pigeon Point, where Mom and Dad used to put out their boat. She would tell me about times they went out on their boat. She had loved fishing and crabbing, even picking crabs to freeze. She had missed doing all those things since Dad had died.
Although she sometimes got discouraged, she generally took this new life in stride. Her faith in God never wavered. Hers was a deep, simple faith that enabled her to raise a son who would die at 21 and a daughter with whom she often did not see eye to eye. She endured the death of her husband after just a few years of retirement and then her own increasing disability.
Most of you only knew her as an old lady. Some of you knew her as an active and faithful Christian and member of this church. I wanted you to know this woman, who lived through many hardships and challenges, but who always had a smile, a woman of great courage and perseverance, a woman of deep and abiding faith. I wanted you to know my mom, not always my friend, but always my hero.
