My mother, our mother, your grandmother, your Aunt Dot, your friend, felt that life was worth living. She chose to take every opportunity she possibly could to be with family and friends, to travel, to join in activities such as horseshoes, bowling, bocce, cards and to share in other people’s enjoyment. Dot loved being with people, having a good time, and people loved to be with Dot. I would like each of you, if you would, to imagine seeing Dot standing in front of you. What would you notice first? Would it be her erect posture, her confidence, her impeccable dress? Would it be her natural wavy hair, or her warm and welcoming smile? Perhaps, it would be her Corcoran blue eyes. Now I would like you to think of a word or phrase to describe Dot. Would it be grand, loving, gracious, remarkable, strong, vital, patriot, charismatic, or maybe royal? Maybe you thought of fun, cool, hip, stylish, or possibly sharp. Some of you may have even thought of dancer, singer, athlete, hostess or friend. Well you know all of you would be right but I simply thought of the word ‘mom’. My mother, and I think I can speak for my siblings and her grandchildren too, became the voice in my conscience. I realized very early on that Dot had figured out life. So whenever I had to make decisions from setting the table to raising my family I would ask myself: “What would Mom do?”, “Would Mom approve?” or “How would Mom take care of this?” I try to follow her example of how to treat others and only hope that one day I can be half the woman she was. Some of the words just mentioned really helped to make my mother the person she was. For instance, the word friend defines my mother. My parents came out here, to the Glen, and met many new people that she considered to be dear friends. She was a member of the Ocean Club and has countless of friends there too. But my favorite story of friendship began more than seventy years ago. Mom and Dad met in high school and had a group of friends that were loyal to each other all of their lives, you know, best friends forever. Through good times and hard times, through children and grandchildren, they were always there for each other. These high school friends became extended family members of our already large family and we loved them as Aunts and Uncles. During World War II, the women of this group banded together and formed a group while the men were serving and the called this group, TSC. Now, the uniqueness of this group was that a pact was made between the girls to never revel what the initials stood for to the men, to their husbands. And, they kept that pact. Only some of the men, who were near death, ever found out what the letters, TSC, meant. I know my father never knew. My mother was the last surviving female in the group and the secret almost died with her. My mother told me that the gals needed and supported each other during the wars years, that they supported the war effort and stood 100% behind their country, and they did it in style. And it was for this reason that they were, “The Sharpie Club”. Another word that defines my mother is strong. Mom had strength in character, strength to be a caring wife of 56 years and strength to be a concerned mother of eight. Where did she get this strength? First, she was born Irish. Then she watched her mother and grandmother become widows at a young age. They had no choice but to become strong in order to take care of their young families. But most of all, my mother had a strong faith and always kept her rosary beads on her bed stand. The rosary became a constant companion through these last few difficult months. And, she believed one should use their strength and their belief in God to help oneself through anything life gives you. One example, she taught the eight of us, was to live by the motto that “no news is good news.” This phrase is often easier said than done because there is always an inkling of a bad thought in the back of your head. But, as my brother, Ned, reminded us was that Mom had to live by this credo over and over again. Mom had to wait for Dad and many good friends to return from World War II. She waited for her cousin in the Korean War, for her sons in the Vietnam War. She waited with her sister for her nephew in the Gulf War. And she waited, for 5 separate tours, for her Granddaughter and her husband to return during the Wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. She waited while her son in laws, her daughter, and now her Granddaughter served on the New York City Police Department. Outwardly she showed us strength, quietly she prayed. Recently, my mother told Pat that she wanted to live long enough to see Mike return safely to Beth and their children. Well, last Friday, Pat informed us and Mom that Mike was coming home. He started his journey early on Saturday, the same day the helicopter was shot down. There was a one percent chance that Mike was on that chopper and Beth had no news from Mike. We all, especially Beth and Pat, had to live be the credo, “no news is good news” for more than 30 hours. Then on Sunday, around one o’clock, Beth called and told Pat that she had finally heard from Mike. That news was whispered into mom’s ear. Mom now knew that the family was in tacked; she knew that her family was safe and she knew that she could rest in peace.
Posted on: Fri, 28 Mar 2014 15:04:07 +0000
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