“Time it was, and what a time it was, it was. A time of innocence, a time of confidences. Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph. Preserve your memories; they’re all that’s left you.” Lyrics from the Simon & Garfunkel song “Bookends” (1968)
Dear Mom,
February 13th will always be a special day for me, and as the years pass, those lyrics only grow more true — I find that I miss you more now than I did when God first called you home to his loving embrace more than six years ago.
Throughout my 64 years as your son, you always found a way to lift my spirits when things weren’t going well or when I was feeling down. You were always the one person in my inner world who could tell me things I didn’t like to hear, but knew I needed to hear.
When Dad lost his job when I was 16 years old and our family’s financial future seemed so uncertain, you did whatever you had to do so I could graduate high school at Paramus Catholic, the school I loved. And when Dennis died so suddenly the following year, you steadied me in ways I could never fully thank you for — all those late-night conversations, and yes, even the car rides at 2am where you would just let me vent my feelings about a world that suddenly looked so different and scary.
You carried so many burdens I didn’t fully understand growing up — your family moving 10 times in your first 16 years of life; that unfulfilled dream you had of becoming a nurse; the ridicule you would often hear from other men and women who looked down on you and our family because you had to work full time to support us. The miscarriages between my birth and Matty’s, and how painful that must have been for you in a culture that didn’t encourage women to talk about it — something I witness and honor today in my bereavement work.
You taught me to always strive and to give it my best, but the best gift you ever gave me, Mom, was the gift of faith — not just in the Lord, but to believe in myself no matter what circumstances life may throw at me. You showed in both word and deed what perseverance really looks like by working through all those hard moments that God placed in your path, including the hard moments between us. But in every one of those moments, Mom, you always showcased your honesty and unconditional love.
You gave me a love for doing both the practical and the beautiful, for my love of finance and planning and organization, and an eye for making any space feel like it belonged to the people living in it. You were the finest decorator I ever knew.
But more than anything, Mom, you taught me how to build a life and to finish the race.
I can still feel and hear your voice in so many places — the kitchen and dining room table, all the phone calls we had while I drove to work or through some airport very far from home. I see you sitting with me at The Daily Treat, grabbing a cone at Dairy Queen, going to Mass with you at Mount Carmel and stopping at Fishel’s Bakery for the rolls and donuts, and in later years those special trips to Van Dyck’s for those tasty chocolate milkshakes.
But Mom, what I really miss more than anything is being able to take care of you — because you had always taken care of me.
So yes, “Time it was, and what a time it was, it was …”
I miss you, Mom, and wish you a happy heavenly 98th birthday. Save a place for me.
Love always, Jackie
Dear Jack, another nice story about your Mom and her beautiful family. Happy Heavenly 98th Birthday to your dear Mom! You have been blessed with good parents that raised you to be the special son you are. Mom and Dad took good care of you and when it was their turn, you took excellent care of them. I know they loved and appreciated what you did for them. May they rest in peace! ?????