Into the West: A Eulogy for My Mother

This was the eulogy that I wrote and read at my mother's funeral on April 22, 2005


Into the West : A Eulogy for My Mother

We are gathered here to celebrate and say good bye to my mother and my best friend. Patricia was a remarkable woman whose time with us was all too brief. She was the definition of humor, strength, courage and love. But she wasn’t a saint. She had her flaws. She had her shortcomings. She was human, just like all of us. She was even known to slip in a naughty word when playing scrabble. And no, I cannot tell you what the word was because Father Nick would pull me out of here by my ear in about two seconds. But still the same, she was an amazing woman.

I have been told that my mom was lucky to have me for a son. That she was lucky to have the kids she had. Many people have said this. Too many people have said this. But, in all honesty…I was the lucky one. My brother and sister were the lucky ones. Her friends and family were the lucky ones. We are all the lucky ones to have had her.

But who was she truly and what does she leave behind? These past 14 months brought out her true spirit. Cancer may have been killing her body, but it was not killing her soul.

She had a zest for life that was second to none. She an amazing ability to bounce back up when she got knocked down. When she was laid off from her job at Fingerhut she thought long and hard about what to do next. Go back to school? Find another job? She decided that she wanted to get a concession trailer and sell mini-donuts at craft fairs and festivals. She had many adventures in that donut wagon and loved to travel and meet people. She even sold mini-donuts during intermission for one of my shows. It took forever to start the second act because everyone wanted her mini-donuts. I think we could have put her and her mini-donut machine on stage and everyone would have paid admission just for that.

What is the first thing that comes to mind when you think of her? Probably her wild sense of humor. She could find the funny in just about anything and she often did. For so many who crossed paths with her, they left with a laugh and a smile from ear to ear.

She and I worked on many theatre productions together. I would direct the show and she would design and sew costumes. One day we were at Wal-Mart, getting fabric for a show. At this point she had to have oxygen so she just wheeled around her little tank wherever she went. As usual she ran into some people she knew and they were chatting. After a bit they asked her if she was still sewing. My mom looked at them and said “Oh yeah, at home Jason hooks up my oxygen tank to the foot pedal on the sewing machine. I can only get air when sewing.” My mom kept a straight face. Then she added…”he even brought the sewing machines up to the hospital when I had my surgery. He put them on the table where my food tray would have gone.” They were horrified and gave me a dirty look. My mom thought it was hilarious. I was in shock. Then they realized she was just having one over on them. Everyone laughed.

One night when we were all gathered around her after she just got home from the hospital she needed to have the bed adjusted and moved. As she started to get up, everyone rushed to her to help. She held out her hands and yelled stop. She looked at us and said “We need to do this with the least amount of destruction. Jeremy you can hold my pop.”

Even when she was frustrated she was funny. One night my sister was giving her medicine and somehow messed it up. My mom, just like Donald Trump from The Apprentice - which was her favorite show, looked at Melissa and flipped her hand and said “you’re fired”. As her caregiver there were always a million questions I would bug her with. How are you feeling? Do you have pain? What can I get you? Questions, questions, and more questions. Mom was getting annoyed with my constant barrage of questions. One night she was lying down in bed and I was leaning over her. I asked “How are you doing mom?” She just opened her eyes and squinted. Next thing I know I see her two hands reaching slowly up towards me. I thought…on no…she is going to choke me. She grabbed and pulled a cheek with each hand and just shook my face while she made a face of frustration. A funny moment, but point taken. Not so many questions from here on out.

But her humor was just one part of her. Her strength and selfless love was second to none. She loved her family dearly and deeply. I know that we, her children were her life. She always made sure we knew just how much she loved us. She reminded us daily, right up until the end. But, two months before she was diagnosed with cancer, my sister gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. My mom’s world lit up. Another kind of love. She loved her first grand-daughter with her whole heart. After my mom was diagnosed she often spoke of how much she would miss Isabella but was thankful that she was here when she was born. She loved her so much. One of her favorite things to do was to baby-sit…even if my mom wasn’t feeling the best from all her chemo treatments she still wanted to baby-sit. So I would go along so she could spend time with her precious granddaughter. One of the times we were babysitting, Isabella had just learned to brush her teeth. She loved to brush her teeth. My mom was so looking forward to seeing her do it. Funny how the most mundane things in life become events when seen through the eyes of a baby. So we were babysitting and it was time to get Isabella ready for bed. My mom grabbed the tiny toothbrush and tube of toothpaste. She got the toothbrush all ready to go and gave it to Isabella. Once she got it in her mouth…her eyes lit up. Brush, brush, brush. Isabella wanted more toothpaste. Eyes wide open…loving every moment of it. We were laughing so hard watching this little baby girl brush her teeth. The more she brushed the more excited she became. It was the craziest thing. Finally I looked down at the tube of toothpaste and realized it was not toothpaste. My mom had grabbed the tube of Orajel by mistake. Baby had pretty much a full tube of Orajel when all was said and done. Baby was feeling very good. Isabella loved her Grandma very much that day. A few days before my mom’s passing, Richard, my sister’s husband and Isabella’s father, told my mom that Isabella would know her. Through stories and memories and photos, Isabella would know her. Isabella would know how much she was loved and cherished by her grandmother. My mom cried. She cried because she was promised that she would not be forgotten. As if it would even be possible.

My mother’s strength blew my mind. Never once did she complain or become bitter and angry. She focused on the positive. Yes there were bad days and she would get frustrated. But I honestly never heard her utter the words…”Poor me”. There was no time for self pity. There was still so much she wanted to do. The day before she died the hospice nurse came to check up on her. My mom laying on what was her death bed looked up at the nurse and asked her if we could get her something to drink…if she wanted a pop, coffee or something. She also offered her the comfortable chair. Who does that? Who lies there…dying…and is concerned about if everyone else is ok or if they need something. But that was my mom. Everyone else first, herself second. There were many nights where I would go to her crying. Feeling the loneliness and despair that I knew was around the corner. I should have been the strong one, but I wasn’t. She was the strong one. She would tell me to sit next to her and she would stroke my hair and tell me that she loved me and that no matter what she would be with me. She was so worried about those left behind. She needed to know that we would all be alright. I pray that someday I have an ounce of her strength.

She found grace and gave forgiveness. She seemed to somehow make peace with so many people around her. In her 14 months of this battle against cancer she was hospitalized four times. The first time was when she had the surgery to have her lung removed. There was a nurse by the name of Jeanette who was assigned to my mom. In the beginning everyone was very optimistic. The word cure was used very often. Everyone used the word cure except Jeanette. One night Jeaneatte brought my mom a tablet and a pen and told her that she should keep a journal about the end of her journey. My mom was furious. My mom wanted nothing to do with her. My mom referred to her as the grim reaper. She would have a cure. No doubt about it. Jeanette could shove her journal. Well…you get the idea. The final time my mom was hospitalized the nurse assigned to her was once again Jeanette. Funny how things come full circle. I prayed that my mom would not remember her from before. My mom remembered. Jeanette talked to my mom about the end. My mom cried. I was furious. I followed Jeanette into the hall, beyond anger…closer to rage and told her to not talk to my mom. She hurt her once before and now again…there would not be a third time as far as I am concerned. The truth hurts. Jeanette was speaking the truth. Back in the room my mom asked me what I said…”not much” I replied and went about my business. My mom was worried that I hurt Jeanette’s feelings. Jeanette returned to give her some medications. Not much was spoken at first. Then slowly they started talking. I was nervous…not again. Then the truth started to seep out again. Jeanette knew about loss. She lost many loved ones. My mom felt sorry for her. My mom felt her loss too. Over the next few days they laughed, they cried, they shared. The truth brought them together. The last night that they were together at the hospital they were sitting there…talking about the small things in life. The conversation leads to pets. My mom asked her how many cats she had. Jeanette said none…she did not like animals in the house. My mom just looked at her and said “oh”. After a moment of silence Jeanette added that once she had a fish but it had died. My mom without skipping a beat looked at her and asked “Oh did you kill it? Did you hold it under water?” Laughter. Nothing but laughter. I still laugh about it. In that moment my mom became unforgettable once again. Jeanette will always remember my mom when she thinks of a fish.

Her faith was tested when she was diagnosed with cancer. She suffered, she was plagued with fear and doubt, and she was in tremendous pain. But she did not give up. She mustered strength and courage and fought a tremendous battle. She walked through fire and emerged stronger than ever in her faith. In a conversation with a friend my mom said that through this journey she truly found God. Cancer was her test and she passed with flying colors. After she passed away I was looking through her books and found many passages from the bible that she had written down. She wrote notes about Jesus, Angels and God. I am still finding them. Gentle little reminders of her faith and devotion. On April 5…twelve days before she passed she gathered us all around her. We all held hands and she lead a prayer. It was beautiful. She prayed to God and thanked him for all the blessings he had given her in her life. She thanked him for all her children, her son-in-law Richard and granddaughter Isabella. She thanked him for the blessing of her husband Denny. She told each one of us, one by one, how much she loved us and how much we meant the world to her. She was filled with God’s love.

Towards the end she found peace and comfort in the knowledge that she was dying. She found great joy in the little things. One day the weather was beautiful. She wanted to sit on the deck. We got the wheelchair and wheeled her out. She sat in the sun watching Isabella play in the backyard. She watched the birds soar high above her. She found peace. Two days before she died she looked at me and said that her mom was in the room and that her mom told her it would be soon. She missed her mom deeply. Her mom had passed away from cancer when my mom was 32. 20 years ago this August. I cried. I cried hard. I knew she needed to go, I wanted her suffering to end. I told her that when she needs to go, to go. But it crushed me. I made her promise that she would let me know when she was going. I did not want her to go alone. After all we had been through I needed to be there. As I cried my mom reached out and took my hand and said “and when it is your time to go, I will come and get you.” She was stronger than an army of a thousand. When she passed away, in one hand she held a rosary, in her other hand she held tightly to my hand. My other hand over her heart. I told her I loved her and then she took two deep breaths and she was gone. She did not go alone. She kept her promise, as she always did. A prayer answered.

As the end drew near so many wanted to visit. The phone rang off the hook and everyone wanted her to know that she was loved. It was too difficult for her to have visitors. She did not want to be seen in such a terrible condition. She asked me to keep everyone at bay. We joked about me being her bouncer. She wanted to be remembered as she was…healthy and whole. She gave me a message to share with everyone. She wanted me to tell you all that while she wanted to say goodbye to each of you in person, it simply was too hard. She loved her family. She loved her friends. She said that we are only losing one person but she is losing so many. She wants you to be happy and have a good life. She will be with us from the other side. She wants you to know that she loves you. She often said that she may have only had 51 years but they were great years. She said some people live to be 90 and never even have half of what she had.
Her life may have been brief, but it was a life rich in the things that truly mattered. A life rich in love, joy and loved ones.

One of our final conversations we had I asked her how she did it…how she was so strong and fearless. There was some confusion on her end…she was having trouble finding the right words. Finally she said. “We are making lemonade.” I looked at her and I thought…”Oh no…what is going on now…we’re not making lemonade, is she having a bizarre reaction to her medications?” So I asked her again because I did not understand and she said…”You know…when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.” Then I understood fully. You just simply do the best with what life gives you. She wants all of us to go out and do the best that we could.

In a conversation I had with Betty, a dear friend of the family for many years, she told that “You are never truly dead until everyone who loves you has passed away as well.” Truth. The simple truth. My mom will live on. She will live on in me. She will live on in you. Her love was strong. Her love was deep. Her love was unconditional. Her legacy is love.

Without a doubt I know my mom is in heaven. She is being embraced by her mother and father right now. She is holding all those she loved that went before her. She is standing in awe before Jesus and God. She is in the light. But, I just pray that she is not playing scrabble with the Pope.

In closing I would like to share one final story about my mom…

When she had her lung removed, I stayed with her in the hospital. Sleeping on the floor on an airbed next to her bed. She was afraid and I promised her I would not leave her. As her a few days went by she was worried about me. Concerned about what I was giving up to be with her. She did not understand that there wasn’t anything I wasn’t willing to give up to be with her. Once again…everyone else first. She said that she wanted me to go by a cd or something so I could pass the time while she slept. Finally I gave in and agreed to go get a cd. I thought long and hard about which cd to get. I wanted to get something that I would still listen to ten years later. Something to remember our time there together. Then I remembered a song that was sung by Annie Lennox a few weeks previously on the Oscars. It was the theme song from the Lord of the Rings movie. The song is called Into the West. It was a beautiful song that I loved instantly. I know…how odd…a theme song from a movie about hobbits. My mom’s personality screamed many things…but hobbits were not one of them. But I still loved the song a lot. I listened to it every night in the hospital while she slept and many, many, many times since then. I would listen to the song and then pray. A few weeks after getting out of the hospital I read in an interview from Annie Lennox that she actually wrote the song when her mother was diagnosed with cancer. Her mother was her inspiration and the song was about her mother. Suddenly the connection made sense. In that song I will always have a piece of my mother. I asked Terri to share with all of you the song…Into the West.

Goodbye mom, I love you and always will.

INTO THE WEST
By Annie Lennox

Lay down
Your sweet and weary head
Night is falling
You have come to journey's end
Sleep now
And dream of the ones who came before
They are calling
From across a distant shore
Why do you weep?
What are these tears upon your face?
Soon you will see
All of your fears will pass away
Safe in my arms
You're only sleeping
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
All souls pass
Hope fades
Into the world of night
Through shadows falling
Out of memory and time
Don't say
We have come now to the end
White shores are calling
You and I will meet again
And you'll be here in my arms
Just sleeping
What can you see
On the horizon?
Why do the white gulls call?
Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
And all will turn
To silver glass
A light on the water
Grey ships pass
Into the West