Thank you for coming.
Thanks to those of you who knew our mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, mother-in-law, and loved her as we did.
And thanks to those of you who have come to provide us strength and support as we mourn, and as we celebrate not only her life among us, but her passing on to the next glorious and mysterious adventure.
We knew mom as a wife, as a singer, as an artist, as a friend.
Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren knew her as their wonderful “Amama”.
But my sisters and brother and I knew her as our mother.
You often worry, at times like these, that you will dwell on the angry times, the bad memories. But God has a way of cleansing our hearts and minds, of sweeping away the sorrow and guilt and bitterness, so that only the good, sweet memories remain.
Memories of a mother who supported us in all things. A mother who was a gracious hostess, and who always welcomed our friends into our home.
Carol remembers that all of her boyfriends loved our mother.
Mary remembers how non-judgmental our mother was of her children.
When our brother was alive, he used to tell people that our mother was just like June Cleaver, doing her housework in a dress and wearing pearls. That probably wasn’t too far from the truth.
One of my fondest memories of mom is the two of us sitting at the piano singing songs from Broadway musicals; those of you who know me will not find that at all surprising.
But the best memory I have is of Valentines Day in 1964, a week after the Beatles had arrived in the United States. My brother and I came to the breakfast table and each of us had a Beatles album at our place. It was typical of our mother to think of something like that.
Our mother was very intelligent; very good with crossword puzzles and words. So it is not surprising that on the morning of the last day of her life, when I went into mom’s hospital room, I found her giving a speech to an imaginary audience, using words and phrases beyond belief. For much of her hospital stay, she had been speaking in a low, sometimes slurred voice. But that morning she was speaking loudly and clearly. Many of you have heard the recordings I made of her “lecture”. It is truly amazing stuff, and I suspect the only reason much of it sounds a bit jumbled and incoherent to us is that we are not yet privileged enough to gain the insights that she had in the last hours of her life.
The wisest thing she said that day was this: “Just when you get your life all settled down, everything goes boom and there is your dog and his friends looking at you.”
Most of her life was well settled, but occasionally there were booms which she overcame with courage and grace, with or without our dogs and their friends.
And so after leaving us with this final bit of wisdom, she has moved on to heaven, where everlasting life is rich and filled with joy;
where no question goes unanswered;
where no pains go unrelieved;
where no opportunities are denied;
where no dreams go unfulfilled.
A place where her singing voice is so clear and melodious, that even the angels pause to listen.
And while we take solace in knowing that we will see her again, each in our own turn, we can be equally comforted knowing that she is with her beloved mother and sister, her loving husband and son, both of whom left us much too soon.
She is becoming reacquainted with the earthly father that she never had a chance to know.
And she is with her heavenly father who she has known and loved all her life.
Not a bad ending to 86 years, 363 days on earth.