Eulogy for my mother delivered at her memorial service in Halifax
I am Tracey, Gai’s eldest daughter and mother of Petra and Xana, My sister Erica, along with Petra, likely greeted you. My mother’s sisters are here: Sandra, who donated her stem cells and gave Mom many years of life to be with us, and Victoria, who gave her compassion and wisdom, and still gives all she can to us, her family. With us are my partner Kris and his mother Tracey, and Erica’s in laws Barbara and Chester.
Erica and I are so grateful to all of you for your support and community in sorting though Gai’s legacy. The communities and support groups my mother initiated, worked towards and cherished are her legacy - so are the very tangible cross walks, accessible ramps, and elevators that stay open long enough not to crush you .
Much to my annoyance, my mother left no problem unexamined, unadvised and ultimately unsolved. When Gai saw a problem, she took whatever action she could to fix it. Speaking as a former problem, this quality could be infuriating. Gai Thomas was not someone you wanted to meet in a dark alley if you were the problem, least of all at full speed on her scooter. Luckily, Mom’s spotlight most often shone on problems that weren’t me: poor curricula for health education, lack of safety for workers, lack of physical fitness and opportunity for the youngest and eldest in our society. The miniature pylons now stacked in her apartment living room attest to the lengths my mother went to get what ought to be happening in the world DONE. She suggested that seniors and people with mobility impairments ought to be offered participation in cycling events and when no one else got it going, she pulled it together in spite of being in an exhausted and seemingly impossibly disabled body. In those moments, her motto seemed to be “A good idea is a terrible thing to waste.”
Many of you knew her only in that seemingly impossibly challenged body. It was difficult for me to see her become so crumpled and pained. My mother was throughout her life feisty, strong and fit. Her sisters knew her to be a tomboy, and she was a championship competitive swimmer in Australia, then Canada. She was a leader in the Girl Guiding movement. She was a lifeguard. She was a violinist and fiddler, whose record collection embraced marching bands (much to our chagrin), dueling banjoes (much to our chagrin), Cleo Lane and Elton John. And you may know her as a fundraiser, an author, an organizer, a co founder of a dance troupe, a dancer, a singer, an advocate, an activist.
Gai Thomas was a nurse who would not stop educating herself and advancing her profession, eventually laying the foundation for occupational health nursing in Nova Scotia, arguably in Canada. I guarantee you there will be a Wikipedia article listing her awards and achievements, but I sense you all know that my mother did important things in this world and made a difference for the better.
My mother turned much of her feistiness to compassion in supporting my sometimes risky, almost always outlandish social activist causes. I was touched that my mother both trusted my judgment AND worried for my well being. That is strength in compassion I am trying to learn to practice in my own mothering.
My mother was so strong willed that I feared the worse for her in death, but I want to share the story of her leaving us. I have grieved for my mother many times before this. It seems she has fallen seriously ill off and on since I was ten years old. She conquered ovarian and breast cancers, then Hodgkins Disease and lymphoma. We talked about her Will almost as often as we played Monopoly. Sometimes her death seemed immenent and I felt helpless and unready. Sometimes her death seemed impossible, surreal. Lately I thought it was more likely she would die in a freak bungee jumping accident in Australia than of natural causes. I felt that her body was animated only by the sheer will of her spirit. I believed she would will herself to live long enough for us to go to Hubbards campground this weekend. I believed that she could will herself to stay alive long enough for us to be with her. But truly, I believe the only way her body could get the rest it so deserved was to trick her and give her the boot in her sleep.
On the weekend, she called folks even though she barely had breath enough to speak from pneumonia. Monday she called herself an ambulance. She was given antibiotics immediately in Emergency at the Infirmary. She did not rest well that night, but Tuesday night she slept well. Hearing that news was a relief or me; she deserved a good rest. Wednesday morning, she was non responsive. I asked a nurse to tell her that Xana and I were on our way. Midday, her body peacefully accepted eternal rest. Ican’t help but think her body tricked her spirit into moving on! She had the comfort of good friends those last days. Her spirit had many plans: fireworks, picnics and Gus the Tortoise’s birthday for Xana, grant applications for senior’s physical participation in her living room, contest entries ready to be mailed. Her agenda book is astounding. In the Buffyverse, my mother was a Slayer.
In the relative wisdom of my own advancing years, what annoyed me in my mother requires re examination from other points of view. I am the grateful mother of a brilliant, complex and challenging teenager, as it should be. I think of the patience, tolerance and compassion my mother needed to send me out into the world intact, and I gasp inwardly. I think of the times I must have embarassed her with my angry, self righteous actions, and I recall how she humbly tried to convince me that the people I was trying to change couldn’t understand my message when I acted that way.
The demons that impelled my mother to action in the world often sat at our kitchen table, eating our favourite cereal, taking too long in the shower, not paying the rent - bad housemates all around. Mother and her demons were not easy to get along with if you were close to her. To have seen my mother overcome these demons, these habits of thought and emotion and action, fills me with such hope and admiration. When she got a hold of a demon, she did not let go and she shook it until it was dead and gone. I didn’t want to be around for the whole torturous process, but I admire and wonder at her tenacity to this day.
My mother grew spiritually in ways that astonished me. She confronted her limits of belief, and her prejudices, examined them, judged them, and pushed her own envelope in her search for a loving mothering and fathering God. I trust she is now in that warm embrace she longed for.
Gai Thomas loved us fiercely - her children, her family, her friends, her peers, her community. Gai Thomas lived life with intelligence, passion, curiosity, purpose and ingenuity. I can’t recall a time she gave in to frustration. Even when she felt hopeless, she fought on until the feeling passed and then fought on until she won. These past few years she used more and more of her energy for enjoyment, and I will always cherish the delight she took in being with Petra and with Xana. The playful, mischievous side of my mother is a quality I am blessed to see live on in my children.
A friend wrote for us on Facebook “ A piece of her is in each of us, and the world is not the same.” So let’s get out there and celebrate the life and life force that Gai Thomas was, and let’s make sure we get it done. Bash on in Majesty!