Dear Family and Friends,
Lodimama82, or as I call her---Mom---passed away almost a week ago on Ascension Thursday (May 29, 2014) at noon.
One of her legacies--this blog--will live on at least for as long as I can continue to contribute to it. To start, I want to post one of two eulogies I wrote for her. This is the longer of the two and is meant for those closest to Mom. Future posts will be entries from the many different attempts at keeping a diary that Mom had that we found in different locations in her room and in other storage places she had. I may post new memories of Mom that come to me, as well. I might even copy and paste some of my own former blog posts as they related to Mom. I hope to keep her MEmories alive this way. Thanks for remembering Mom. It means a lot to me, personally. Please leave a comment if you like what you are reading or--if you have a different version of the events or if you wish to add something to her MEmories so her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren can learn to know and love her as I do. Occasionally, I will editorialize her journals for a variety of reasons not the least of which is because I am one of the few who can decipher her handwriting, and even I have trouble sometimes. Thanks to all for the outpouring of sympathy and well-wishes. On behalf of Mom, and the rest of us, I love you all.
Steve
Now, here is my eulogy:
A priest was preaching one Sunday on the theme of “Love your enemies.” After a long sermon, he asked how many parishioners were willing to forgive their enemies. About half held up their hands. Not satisfied with this response, he preached for another 20 minutes and repeated his question. This time he received a response of about 80%. Still unsatisfied, he went on for another 15 minutes and repeated his question. With all thoughts now on Sunday dinner, everyone raised their hand except one elderly lady in the front row. “Mrs. Jones, are you not willing to forgive your enemies?” the priest asked. “I don't have any,” she said. Surprised, the priest said, “Ma’am, that is very unusual. How old are you?” “Ninety-two,” she responded. “Mrs. Jones, please tell me, how can you have lived to be 92 years old, and not have an enemy in the world.” The sweet little lady, smiled, and said simply. “Oh, Father, I’ve had plenty of enemies. It’s just that, at 92, I’ve outlived them all!” Sounds a little like Mom, doesn’t it?
”What
a special gift Jesus gave us when from the cross He said to John,
“Behold your Mother.”! (Jn 19:26-27).
Mothers
always seem to know what you need and when you need it. I have a lot
of very fond memories of times spent in my childhood when it was just
Mom and me, which you would think would be difficult in a house with
4 brothers. I can’t begin to write down all of those memories,
because A) There are too many, and B) I don’t have enough words in
my vocabulary to express what those moments have meant to me. But I
will share a few that I think about a lot.
When
I was about 8 or 9 years old, I got caught stealing a candy bar from
Dale’s market, across the street from our house (I should probably
be on that television show, “America’s Dumbest Criminals!) The
manager called Mom and she came over to get me. She pulled me home by
my ear, really angry that I would betray her trust in me and
embarrass her to the neighbors. She kept saying, “You’re going to
confession! Today!” and “Your father’s going to punish you when
he gets home!” When we got home, Mom sent me to my room and said,
“Wait right here! When your father gets home, we’ll decide what
to do with you!” All kinds of thoughts were running around in my
head, not the least of which was “Man, this spanking is going to
hurt!” Anyway, Dad came home and I got really scared. He was all
for spanking me, but just as he was about to let loose on my behind,
the phone rang, Dad said “Saved by the bell for the moment!” and
he went out with Mom to see who it was, forgetting about me for the
time being. It was Aunt Jenny. Mom told her what was going on and
Aunt Jenny offered to come by and take the both of us to confession
right then—me for stealing and Mom for losing her temper with me.
By this time, Mom had pretty much cooled down anyway and was having
second thoughts about spanking me. She could see that I was sorry.
And I was. Truly sorry. Not because of the punishment I might and
ought to receive, but because I had offended her and Dad, by not
obeying them and staying out of trouble. I said as much to them and
evidently Mom was satisfied enough with my contrition to talk Dad out
of spanking me. But our trip to the confessional was still made—it
was the occasion for me to learn yet another lesson. Sin is sin.
Mom spent as much time in the “box” confessing her anger that day
as I did for stealing a candy bar!
Mom
loved Lawrence Welk! She watched his old shows almost as much as she
watched EWTN. I think there were two reason for this. She and Dad
watched it together back when the shows were first broadcast and it
was often that Dad would take Mom by the hand and lead her to the
middle of the living room floor and they would dance. Imagine that!
In front of the kids and everything! Eww! Watching Lawrence Welk kept
that memory of Dad's loving spontaneity alive for Mom. It also
provided another excuse for her to share (yet again) that she was
taught piano by Lawrence Welk's niece, Hildegard Braun. As many times
as I heard that story—and Mom told it each time as if it were the
first time I heard it—I only listened to her actually play on our
old organ once. From what I remember of that recital, either Mom
forgot most of what she was taught, or Lawrence Welk's niece was not
much of a teacher!
Speaking
of her stories; in her final weeks in the hospital, all of the
doctors and nurses and therapists and care-givers remarked how keen
and sharp-witted Mom was at 95. She certainly was gifted that way.
One thing you could count on with Mom was that she would tell the
same stories over and over and over again, but the facts of the
stories never changed.
Mom
once told me "I wish I could have made you all millionaires or
something”. That reminds me of a story I once read:
There
was a very rich man who had everything he had ever wanted and was so
proud of himself he went riding on his horse one morning out to the
countryside to survey his lands and congratulate himself for being so
rich and successful.
He
came upon an old man, Hans, who was known as a vagrant and prophet of
God sitting under an old oak tree and eating his simple lunch of a
piece of cheese and some stale water. "God bless you, sir!"
the old man said to the rich man. "Harrumph!", said the
rich man with a snort, "It was by my own hard work and diligence
that I am the richest man in this country. Your God had nothing to do
with it!"
"Nevertheless",
said Hans, "I had a dream last night that the richest man in the
country is going to die tonight, so I will continue to pray for you."
"Harrumph!"
he replied again, saying under his breath "What a crazy old
man!"
As
the day wore on though, the rich man started to wonder if the old man
could possibly be right so he sent for his doctor. After a thorough
examination, he was given a clean bill of health and a chide from his
doctor for believing in "fairy tales told by old men". He
went to bed that night feeling as proud of himself as he always did.
The
next morning, his neighbor visited and asked, "Did you hear the
news? The old man, Hans, died last night!"
Mom,
by sharing your faith with us, you have
made us millionaires. God bless you.
The
most spiritually profound memory I will keep of Mom and one that is
shared by everyone here without question is her complete devotion to
the rosary and the Divine Mercy chaplet.
I
have often thought and I confess to everyone here and now that I know
God exists because of Mom's unwavering faith and prayers. Faith is a
gift given to us by God. But it is taught to us and nurtured by our
parents. Mom’s example of uncompromising faith and prayers are the
“insulin shot” I need at those times when my own faith grows
weak. I can only aspire to be for my children and grandchildren the
example of faith my Mom has been for me.
You
could set your clocks to Mom’s prayers. At noon each day she would
stop whatever else she was doing and recite one of her many daily
rosaries. She said a different rosary for each intention (and for
each one of us). Sometimes she would say it quietly to herself and
sometimes she would use some form of media—television or radio or
cassette or DVD to “help” her along. There were many times that
Mom and I would recite several rosaries while traveling South from
Lodi and then back North again. It sure made the time fly by, that's
for sure.
Then
at 3pm each day (the hour Christ died on the cross) she would recite
the Divine Mercy. That devotion is a relatively new one that was
promulgated by Pope (Saint) John Paul II when he canonized St.
Faustina in 2000. But the rosary devotion was hers since she could
speak. I never knew her to miss a rosary in my entire life. She truly
was the epitome of what is known as a “prayer warrior”. How
gracious was it that Jesus called her home on the feast of His
Ascension at noon? Praised be Jesus Christ!
I
also have memories about our discussions on faith, life, and yes—even
death and the new life that our death on Earth brings us to. But
those are pretty deep and I think Mom would like to keep her
remembrance on the lighter side.
As
a lot of the saints do, Mom had such a great sense of humor!
Oftentimes I would tell a joke that would be so mangled I would screw
up the punchline. Mom would laugh anyway and then say SHE heard the
joke before with a different punchline then retell it to me the right
way!
While
in the car a few days ago, Janie related a funny story about Mom and
her sisters. Aunt Barbara, Aunt Theresa and Mom were all traveling
somewhere when one of them remarked “If we were to have an accident
right now and die, I'm ready.” The other agreed and said “Me,
too! I'm ready whenever the Lord wants me!” From the back seat Mom
piped in, “Then pull over at the next corner and let me out!”
I
wrote a prayer for Mom on her birthday about 3 years ago. I’d like
to share that now:
Lord
Jesus, You have known Your Mother’s love and tender care so please
hear our prayer for our own mother, Your devoted daughter, on this
day we remember her.
Just
as she gave life to her children and has given her best to protect us
these many years, please protect her now and let her feel safe in the
Light of Life that flows through You.
Take
from her all her anxieties and fears and fulfill all of her wishes.
If Your will is to refuse her any of those wishes, let even the
refusals bring her comfort, as she has comforted her children even in
her occasional refusals for our own good.
Though
we, her children, can never repay her for all she has given us we
have confidence that You will repay her for us one day when she rests
in the sweet embrace of Your own Mother. Amen.
I’m
sure that each of my brothers and our wives has a “special”
memory of Mom that shows what a powerful effect a mother’s love can
have on any one of us, and how she can protect us from pain and
suffering, just as I’m sure Jesus has similar stories to tell about
His special moments with His mother that were never written down in
the Bible. How great His love is to share His Mother with us, so we
can build similar memories with her.
And
just as Mom was able to intercede for me to Dad so that he stayed his
hand on my bottom that day I stole the candy bar, so our Blessed
Mother does for us with her Son.
I
would like to conclude with Mom’s all-time favorite prayer:
Hail,
Mary, full of grace! The Lord is with you. Blessed are you among
women and Blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus.
Holy
Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our
death. Amen
