My mother's eulogy from me...
I have sat down to write something about my mom more times than I care to remember. No words come, and if they did, they wouldn’t be enough to paint a picture of m mother. I could fill a notebook, like this, ten times over and merely have an outline or stick figure.
Mere words can’t express her agile mind, caring heart - offered freely to others (and the puppies! Don’t forget the puppies), varied and numerous talents, and wicked and witty sense of humor.
I lack the words to describe how her death makes me feel.
I’ve edited this next part quite a bit. I’m angry and this isn’t fair. But even if my mother lived to be 100, I wouldn’t be ready and it would be too soon.
I know she’s in a better place. I know by the faces of everyone here that she is deeply love and sorely missed.
I know that everyone she touched is a better person for knowing her.
I know she is still with me.
I know that I need to put one foot in front of the other, to persevere and stay the course…
To make her proud… and do everything she believed I could do.
To love like she loved, the way she taught me to love.
But it’s not the same. I have to remember her devotion and fierce loyalty, her strength.
For now, one of her simplest pieces of advice is what helps.
“Things will look better in the morning.”
Please tell me your stories. I’ll save them in my heart and for one shining moment, it will feel like she is here with me.
The second greatest gift after my mother’s love is my sister, and the wisdom that she is the person who in the end knows me best. Mom said I told God, and reminded her constantly that we “only wanted a sister”. Even though I asked a few weeks after she was born if she had saved the receipt.
At the end, I’d run out of things I wanted to day, other than “I love you” over and over. Of course everyone in the room laughed.
All that mattered in the end was love.
Mere words can’t express her agile mind, caring heart - offered freely to others (and the puppies! Don’t forget the puppies), varied and numerous talents, and wicked and witty sense of humor.
I lack the words to describe how her death makes me feel.
I’ve edited this next part quite a bit. I’m angry and this isn’t fair. But even if my mother lived to be 100, I wouldn’t be ready and it would be too soon.
I know she’s in a better place. I know by the faces of everyone here that she is deeply love and sorely missed.
I know that everyone she touched is a better person for knowing her.
I know she is still with me.
I know that I need to put one foot in front of the other, to persevere and stay the course…
To make her proud… and do everything she believed I could do.
To love like she loved, the way she taught me to love.
But it’s not the same. I have to remember her devotion and fierce loyalty, her strength.
For now, one of her simplest pieces of advice is what helps.
“Things will look better in the morning.”
Please tell me your stories. I’ll save them in my heart and for one shining moment, it will feel like she is here with me.
The second greatest gift after my mother’s love is my sister, and the wisdom that she is the person who in the end knows me best. Mom said I told God, and reminded her constantly that we “only wanted a sister”. Even though I asked a few weeks after she was born if she had saved the receipt.
At the end, I’d run out of things I wanted to day, other than “I love you” over and over. Of course everyone in the room laughed.
All that mattered in the end was love.