Home again. And it is a mess.  A reminder of the final push to get things together to go to Connecticut -- boxes from the photo albums from the 1930s to more recent images. 

Everything came together so well this weekend. Mom's service was heartfelt, real, beautiful, honest. Badass, even? That may be stretching it. But it was lovely.

For the most part, it was easy. Far easier than I expected. The days and weeks leading up to Saturday, the planning, the coordinating. The program. The slideshow. The flowers. The food. Items for the altar scape which Sue Williams created in mom's memory.

The pondering, writing, rewriting. And then veering from the script, while staying open hearted. 

There was so much love in mom's service, so much celebration, so much heart. Music, laughter, love. So much love.

And after? Gatherings with family. And friends.  Seeing cousins and nieces and family who have been away for so long, the combination of circumstances and then the overlay of the pandemic. Incredibly precious time, healing time. Plus pinochle, mini-golf, kayaking and Elizabeth Park. It was a VERY full few days.

It was wonderful, really wonderful. For each person who was with us in church, for friends who joined us to watch the service livestreamed on Facebook, thank you. Having you with us meant so much. For those of you watching from home, you were spread across so many miles: Barbara and Lisa and Ben and Brion from New Jersey. Alan and Stephanie from LA. Sunil and Manju from Mumbai. Marylin and Mike and Martha and Mary Anne from upstate New York. Janis from Florida.  Joyce from Windsor. Elfi from the Netherlands. And so many more of you. It is really a lovely gift to be able to have us all together. 

Thinking back to mom's service, and to all of the love, it is incredibly dear.

A few words stand out, all descriptors of mom: 

Diva. Icon. Powerhouse. Badass. Inspiration. Leader. Buoyant spirit.

Those words, that combination, bring me a big, huge, peace-filled smile.

As I am home again, away from so many of you, it helps to call up those powerful words. It helps to call up your love, to remember that you are still with me. That you all carry mom in you, with you. That she is a thread that connects each of us. 

Leading up to this week was hard. There were a several times when people asked how I was doing. More than once I replied, "I'll be good in August."

With this week off, with space to rest and regroup and connect and to play, I will be "good in August."

When I hold close all of the love of this weekend, all of the magic and mystery of my mom's life,  when I remember that all of that good is all still right here, I am already good.  

The Celebration of mom's life is still posted on the First Church in Windsor Facebook page. There is no need to have a Facebook membership to watch the celebration of mom's life. You may use this link. Or https://www.facebook.com/FirstChurchinWindsor/

The reflections that I prepared for mom's service are below. They proved to be a launching pad rather than a script. 

July 24, 2021 

I am so glad to see you today.

My mother … her love for us and our love for her … brings us together today.

Mom imagined this day. She imagined us here together, celebrating her life. She would love to look out and see you here.

When mom knew that her days were short, she started planning, working things out in her mind. (If you knew mom well, you know she always had at least one plan that she was working on.) She picked the hymns, the scripture, the readers, the speakers. And she asked us to wait summer, until we could be together.

Trailblazer

Mom lived quite the life. And in the midst of a pandemic, the five-weeks we had together after she started hospice were an incredible gift.

For me, first and foremost, she’s always been my mom. Smart, loving, funny, hardworking, generous, and sometimes a pain in the ass. It has taken me a long time to grasp just what a trailblazer my mother was.

I recently received a letter from a man who had read about mom. After condolences, he wrote: “To put it in proper terms, it sounds like your mother was a badass. Someone who was wise beyond the times that she lived through.”

He got it right.

My mother lived an amazing life. She was fearlessly, unapologetically and boldly herself. She loved deeply, laughed loudly, sang at the top of her lungs. She took chances.

Mom had strong faith, although she rarely talked about it. She acted from it. Mom believed that we are all God’s people. She stood up for people and causes that she believed in, whether or not they were popular at the time.

Growing Up

Growing up, I always knew that my mother loved me deeply. And also that she had a life beyond being my mother. That went without questioning. Yet in the early 70s, this was a somewhat radical idea for a middle-class white woman in Connecticut.

My mom wasn’t like all of the other moms. She never was one for conforming to others’ expectations, to fitting herself into a neat, tidy, socially-accepted box. She lived big.

She was always involved in something:

As her child, this wasn’t always easy.

• Riding along – sometimes quite bored -- while she took people out on showings, or hanging out at the office
• Waiting for mom to pick us up – yet again -- because she’d gotten tied up on a call
• Having the phone ring in the house and get picked up at all hours, or during meals. This was well before answering machines, cell phones or even an answering service. A call missed was business lost.
• Wanting to hide under the theater seats as my mom laughed LOUD as we watched the Apple Dumpling Gang at Windsor’s 99 cent theater.

But it made my life bigger.

• Mom’s business truly was a family business. Oma, my sister and I all spent time working at the office. The people who worked with my mother become family. And I had quite a leg up in marketing and customer service.

Mom was resilient. She had Grit.

In 1983, in her early 40s, mom had breast cancer.

Coming face-to-face with her mortality changed mom. Her illness and recovery was incredibly difficult.

And after? Mom took up living with even greater zest, determined not to miss out on any of it.

Over time, the debilitating rheumatoid arthritis that started in mom’s 40s slowed her down. High heels yielded to flats which eventually gave way to an electric wheelchair.

George, her second husband and my stepfather, developed dementia and died close to a decade ago. She lost her oldest daughter to suicide. She struggled to balance getting the care she needed with staying in her house and keeping working.

My wife once remarked that it was easy to forget just how physically limited mom was, because of her strong presence.

Affectionately known as “the fashionista in the chair,” She put her best foot (or wheel) forward whenever she left the house.

The last few years were difficult. She needed tremendous amounts of care to get through the day.

Some people would have given up. But mom didn’t. She continued to push, to keep working, to squeeze more out of life.

Some days were hard. She could be in pain: irritable, cranky, demanding. She needed a LOT of help. And she wasn’t particularly gracious about asking for it.

Coming into church today, you may have seen mom’s sign “Believe something good is about to happen and will happen.”

I think that was part of her secret, part of what kept her bouncing back. And she kept laughing.

Mom loved music.

She loved to sing, she loved to dance and she loved playing the violin – once serving as first chair, or concertmistress, of Syracuse’s all-city orchestra.

In church every Easter, my mother’s strong soprano rang out through the church as she sang the Halleluiah Chorus. As an adolescent, this mortified me, for she chose to join in from our pew.

That woman knew how to have fun!

Earlier this year, when mom had decided to start hospice, the music therapy team stopped by her room. They asked about her favorite music. She replied Yo-Yo Ma. After discovering that the pair would be singing, she surprised them with a request for Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper’s The Shallows. They agreed, steadily improving as they sang it together for their first time.

When asked what she would like next, she quickly replied, “Well, now that you’ve learned it, how about singing that again?”

Mom loved a celebration. 

Someone once said that my mother could make a party out of any anything. And its true!

Some of my favorite memories include:

• the castle-themed party to celebrate her businesses 15th anniversary; being decked out in period garb when our house was on Windsor’s bicentennial tour. And Christmas?

Mom loved people. And she loved fun. Parties and celebrations were one of the ways that mom built community, and a way that she gave back.

When I talked to my mother about dying, she said that she wasn’t afraid. She had deep faith and felt at peace.

Toward the end of my mother’s hospice journey, my sister-in-law, Marcia, helped my mother to put into words what was most meaningful to her. I’d like to close with my mother’s own words.

Opening the Heart

My wish would be for ending racism.

What would this look like?

I would see people uniting in understanding of one another.

I am more blessed than people could ever imagine.

Spirituality has always been a big part of my life.

I want to be surrounded by the spirit, always.

What I hope is that, people will see me in a new light,

With a new way of approaching things that are important,

And opening their hearts

To a different dimension.

love, love, love,

Dana