A Small Tribute

My mom died late last week. This is what I wrote and read at her funeral:

My mother liked her soup hot and her oysters cold. She enjoyed a strong cup of coffee in the morning and an equally well made gin and tonic in the evening. I tend to experiment when I am in the kitchen, but she preferred to follow a recipe instead of making it up as she went along. When it came to beverages and meals she believed in following a set of rules (truly let the butter come to room temperature before adding it to the cookie batter etc) but when it came to the people in her life she was far more flexible and forgiving.

From our family’s annual pair of new Christmas slippers to a necklace or earrings for my birthday - or a new shirt my father was convinced he didn’t need but would inevitably find to fit just right - she had great taste and had an uncanny knack for finding the gift perfect for whomever was on her mind. To that end it was she, without my being present or giving her much guidance, who found not one but two dresses for me to consider wearing for my senior high school prom. It’s so easy to feel misunderstood or unknowable in this world, and yet by her tokens of affection to me, I was given a clear message: she saw who I was and knew what I liked…no easy feat as a mother of a teenager, I would expect.

Mom was an artist and a teacher, and had a great ability for dealing with the whims and moods of children and adults alike, which definitely served her well in regards to my father and myself. As a child I loved looking at the photographs underneath my parents’ bed, which Mom had created before I existed. There was something so fascinating about seeing this creative inner life that predated me, and there is no doubt that my own interest in photography was inspired by that treasure trove of black and white images. Her lifelong commitment to looking at the world and reflecting it through her creative endeavors is admirable and something I will always value about her.

Throughout her life, many of Mom’s friends would describe her as ‘sweet’ or ‘quiet’ and while both these adjectives are fitting, you didn’t really know my mother unless you understood that under that sweetness and quiet there was an active, intelligent and funny mind at work.

Though she had her convictions, Mom never tried to overpower anyone with her ideas or opinions, but that shouldn’t be confused with her not having any. Whatever thoughts she did have on a subject, whether how to make a bed or what to do about a boy, she tempered her delivery with compassion and insight into her audience’s feelings and perspective. This, of course, made her a wonderful sister, aunt, wife, mother and friend. Earlier this week one of Mom’s friends mentioned that she felt that she could tell my mother anything without having to worry about being judged or misunderstood, and this is a sentiment I echo heartily as well. My mother was an unfailing sounding board for any scheme I came up with or dilemma I encountered in life. And while I didn’t always follow her patient guidance, her perspective was invaluable to me and influenced who I am and how I live my life. My belief that you should try always to see the good in people and take whatever life throws at you with grace and as much humor as you can muster are just a few examples of what my mother taught me.

My mother never swam with her head completely immersed in the water and didn’t care for murky lakes or strong waves. And yet she encouraged me to swim and embrace that which she feared. I can only hope that she had this impact on many others in her life. She was, simply put, a fantastic human being.

While I know grief fades and the absence Mom has left in our lives will soften, I will miss her forever.

I don't know why these fonts won't behave for me, I made the text plain before copy and pasting it, but it's weird.