missing you mom

8/7/2019 Missing You Mom...

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Everything I needed to know about my Mother was contained in a small, rectangular box. The box was

made of glass and stood roughly 1 and 1/2 inches high, half an inch wide. It was lined in gold trim and

hung from her neck by a thin chain.

My Mom and I had a special relationship. We were a team. We relied on each other. My brothers and

sister came along when I was 12, 13 and 15 but until that point, it was her and me. They will always be

able to share the memories of youth together, but my childhood was just me and Mom. No one knows

what we went through -- the good and bad -- except for her and I. Although I will never forget the last

month or so when Mom and all my brothers and sister were together I'd like to forget it, at least for

tonight. I want to forget the pain she endured and the fear the experienced. At least for one night. A

service like this isn't meant to be a happy occasion, by any stretch of the imagination, but what I would

like to share with you are a few snapshots of the joy we shared.

-- I want to remember sitting out on our balcony of the apartment in East Brunswick, New Jersey,

watching Star Wars -- minus the sound -- in the distance at the Drive Inn Theater. She'd taken me to see

it in the movie theater, but from where our balcony was positioned, we could watch it over and over

again from a distance -- minus the sound.

-- I want to remember her teaching me how to ride a bicycle. After what seemed like weeks of trying,

the training wheels came off and off she sent me down a hill so steep my stomach dropped. I didn't fall

and from that point on, I knew how to ride a bike.

-- I want to remember sitting down at my plastic Fisher Price record player, listening to songs from The

Muppet Movie, Grease and Saturday Night Fever. We'd sing the songs togetherpretty poorly, I might

add. Little did she know sitting in front of that record player that someday I'd be a DJ.

-- I want to remember the sound of her voice calling out to me "5 MINUTE WARNING!!!" just before it

was time to go to bed. I know for a fact I'll be using that line with my kids.

-- I want to remember people constantly mispronouncing her name and the humor she found in that.

Everything from WINAN to WIININ to WAYNE. Let me explain something about the word unique, which

is often misused in the English language. Unique means one-of-a-kind. Things aren't unique unless they

are indeed, one-of-a-kind. My mother, from her name to her soul, was one-of-a-kind.

--I want to remember her words of encouragement after every one of my swim meets. It was the first

time I competed athletically in anything and I was the fattest kid on the swim team. No one was

confusing this physique with Michael Phelps -- or at the time Mark Spitz. I never won a race, but she was

always in my ear, telling me how good I did. Maybe next time, she'd say. It's a good thing I learned how

to hit a baseball.


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-- I want to remember her bringing me with as she taught Aerobics, which was all the rage back then.

My job was to change the cassette tapes in between songs -- and of course, check out the pretty girls

dancing all around.

-- I want to remember how she used to come into my room on snow days, shutting off my alarm clock so

I could sleep a little longer without some deafening buzzer piercing my ear. Although she was forever

correcting my English, sometimes it was advantageous to have a teacher for a mother who knew the

school closings before everyone else.

-- I want to remember that crazy, far-too-big-for-her head perm she sported when I was youngpart 70s

afro and part small planetary system.

-- I want to remember sitting down with her on the piano bench and playing. I was always amazed at the

beauty and grace she had while playing -- especially considering the way I would just butcher songs. She

would get frustrated at me because I refused to learn to read musicI would just play the song from

memory. Hey Mom could play the piano, I could block baseballs in the dirt.

-- I want to remember how she would always steal my nose. Mom would grab it off my face and run,

letting me chase her around the house until she eventually allowed me to catch her. And she always let

me win.

--I want to remember her being at every Little League game I ever played. Not most, EVERY game. Mom

really didn't know a baseball from a basketball, but she was there at EVERY game not because she loved

baseball like I do, but because she knew I would always be looking for her up in the stands. EVERY game.

-- I want to remember laying in bed as my Mom turned the lights out in my room at bedtime. I would

blow her a kiss from across the room and she would always jump up in the air, pretending to grab the

imaginary smooch.

-- I want to remember something that still to this day one of the funniest things I have ever heard. A

childhood friend of mine told me there was no such thing as the Easter Bunny and that my parents were

indeed who brought me chocolate bunnies. I ran home and confronted Mom. I wanted an explanation.

Mom looked me dead in the eye and without any hesitation, she calmly answered with a straight face --

"Do I look like the Easter Bunny to you?" I was speechless.

-- I want to remember the look in her eyes when she told me she was pregnant with my oldest brother

William. More than anything, she wanted brothers and sisters for me.

-- I want to remember loading up her colorfully striped beach bag every summer and making the long

trek to Sandy Hook. We would roll the windows down in her baby blue Chevy Pinto and sing the whole

way there. Mom would pin a beach pass on my little Speedo and we would spend the rest of the day


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eating homemade ham and cheese sandwiches, listening to music and relaxing. Some times we would

talk endlesslyother times she would read and we sat quietly. But no matter what, we were together.

-- I want to remember how she was a teacher to the coresometimes squeezing two lessons into one. I

was about 9 or 10 and I had just won a essay contest at school. Mom beamed with pride while reading

my work. Knowing she was an English teacher, this just gave me a boatload of confidence. I felt good

about myself. A few hours later, we were in the kitchen. She shook her head and told me i wrote better

than most of the 11th graders she was teaching. I chimed in "Well, I can write something and you can

show it to them and tell them your 9-year old wrote it." She snapped her head around and said to me

"Why, do you want them to feel bad about themselves?" Right there I learned not one but two lessons --

I could be proud and have confidence in my ability without rubbing someones face in it.

-- I want to remember being a teenager, sitting outside by our pool in Sarasota and watching Mom swim

around with William, Lauren and Casey. Watching how happy my brothers and sister made her was

remarkable.

-- I want to remember how beautiful she looked on my wedding day as we danced to our song --Helen

Reddy's "Me and You Against the World."

-- I want to remember the joy in Moms voice when she heard me tell her my wife and I were adopting

and she would finally be a grandma.

These are just a handful of things that made my Mom my Mom. I would like to acknowledge some

people at this time who played a major part in her life, especially near the end. First and foremost my

brothers and sister -- the absolute pride and joy of my Moms life -- who dropped everything to spend

the last 1and 1/2 months with Mom. We have always been close, but these past few months have made

us invincible.

--Casey, the youngest and only one of us who has never left Moms side. I remember one of the first

things he told me when I flew up her in early January-- "Keep a stiff upper lip bro."

--Lauren, a feistier version of Mom. My sister has and always will continue to do her Mother and family

proud.

--William, the sweetest and most thoughtful of us. An absolute heart-of-gold.

--Nana, the matriarch of this family. They tell me burying your children is the worst pain known to us

mortals. Having watched my Nana navigate her way through the past few months, I know where my

Mother's toughness came from.

--Uncle Robert, who used to pick on me when I was a kid. I couldn't have fought through the past few

months without him and he truly is the big brother I never had.

--Jenn, my beautiful wife who got up here and as usual, whipped the troops into shape. They say you

marry a woman similar to your motherin terms of heart and kindness, they are the spitting image.

--Tom Harding, my mother's boyfriend. Not only did Tom help my mother live her life to the fullest the

final two years of her life, he cared for her on a day-to-day basis in the final months. He wasn't obligated


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to do that and my family will never forget his kindness. Tom is now a member of our family and has an

open invitation into my house whenever he wants, no question asked.

-- Marty, my mother's best friend. Marty and my Mom shared their lives together in only a way two

women can. Whenever I talked to Mom on the phone, she always filled me in on Marty's life too. Marty

made my Mom feel like there was someone out there who understood her. She, too, is now a member

of our family.

I'd like to thank all those Mom touched, who were able to join us tonight. She was a beautiful woman --

inside and out -- who left this world far too early. Mom will be remembered differently by different

people. She will be remembered as a friend, a colleague, a lover, a rock, a beacon, a confidant, a leader,

a musician, an artist, a catalyst, a teacher, a student. But amongst all these things, all I need to know

about my Mother was contained inside a little glass box. It was spelled out in a few tiny diamond chips --

simple, classy, elegant, timeless: # 1 MOM.

I love you Mom.

missing you mom

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