The heart of a mother is a deep abyss at the bottom of which you will always find forgiveness ~ Honore de Balzac

My mother just passed away.  She lived 94 years.  She died 361 days after losing one of her sons, my brother who died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 57.  December has not been kind to our family and I think it will take  some time for us to feel merry during  the holiday season irrespective of what people proclaim.    I know, life is fleeting and we must enjoy each and every day.... okay,  point made.

Mom at age 37 with Dad and family in 1954 after the birth of my sister her 7th child

 Mom was born during WW1, the war to end all wars.  She was raised during the depression, went to college for a degree in elementary school education, married during WW2;  her first child born while her husband, my father, was serving in the Army/Air Corps as part of the combat operations in the depths of the war in Europe.  My father returned and she had another child, then another, then another....until there were nine.  When she could have no other children, she took the responsibility of raising a neighbors child whose mother was absent.  She baked, grew a vegetable garden, knitted our hats, scarves and slippers, sewed our pajamas and clothing from patterns she made out of newspaper, sent us to private catholic school and corrected our grammar as needed until it became our second skin, something we all have found to be both a curse as well as a blessing.   She was a brownie and girl scout leader, a cub scout and boy scout mother.  She woke us up early for paper routes, and stayed up late making sure our homework was completed. She took in the strays that my Dad constantly brought home despite having twelve mouths to feed.  She loved peonies and mocha ice cream, murder mysteries and the Boston Red Sox. She loved swimming in the ocean on Cape Cod and playing bingo.    She prayed as one of her sons went off to war in VietNam and then again years later when two of her grandsons went to Afghanistan and Iraq.  In her 50's she returned to work, teaching 3rd grade at the grammar school we each attended.  By age 70 she was asked to retire but continued on to "assist" in the school office, most assuredly working harder for free than she ever had while making a salary.  Twenty years later she was still receiving letters from former students whose lives she touched.   She and my Dad were fixed and constant in their attendance at Sunday mass and once, when they won the lottery, made certain the appropriate tithe was given to the parish although they both went without luxuries for many years.    She was stubborn yet thoughtful and caring,  remembering even distant friends and relatives on their birthdays with greeting cards.  She buried her husband and her son yet she was blessed with 16 grandchildren and 15 great grandchildren (with another on his way) almost all of whom inherited her trademark brilliant blue eyes.  Oh how she loved her GG's!

I imagine most people, when losing a parent, take quiet moments of reflection.  What has this person meant to me, what will I miss the most, what have I lost.  Where and how do I begin this enumeration?  My mother and I didn't always agree, yet despite harsh words spoken which cannot be taken back, I know that my mother loved me as I loved her. Although I can't claim to possess her unyielding faith, she gave me the gift of spirituality and I am thankful for the guidance she taught by her example.   I will think of her whenever I hear Josh Groban sing, or pass an ice cream parlor.  I'll remember her on her birthday, Mothers day and Christmas.  I'll recall her constant lessons whenever I hear someone using incorrect grammar, although I'll endeavor to use more restraint!  I will root for the Red Sox in her honor, as well as my fathers and I will forever cherish the legacy she has given us all.....her family.

Mostly, however, I will miss her.  I love you Mom. Rest in peace.

On her most recent birthday