I stood there that day and read my final tribute to Margaret, because my Mother taught me how to mourn. Yes…there is a time to mourn…but on that warm August day, we gathered to celebrate Mom’s life, taking the time to reflect and put to memory, all the wonderful blessings she bestowed upon us throughout our lives.
Our Mom was the last of 13 siblings to pass away. Growing up in this large family, she was labeled the ‘little queen’ by her twin brothers, who protected and watched over her in her teen years. They were definitely her loyal and faithful subjects. Mom met our Dad and married in July 1944. After 47 years of marriage, she bade farewell to my Dad in late November, as the snow began to fall announcing the first signs of winter. Just six years later, she was to endure the parting of her beloved daughter, Josie, her own Mother’s namesake. This cross she bore with courage and undying faith that Josie was enjoying her peace at last. It would be an understatement to say Mom had an incredible capacity for endurance.
Of all the memories I hold dear of my Mom is the one that resurfaces time and time again. It was the incredible softness of her hands. Her hands were not strangers to hard work; hands that toiled endlessly through hard times and all the while retaining their silky softness. I remember Mom recoiling from too firm a handshake stating that it hurt her fingers. In retrospect…her hands matched her perfectly…they were gentle, soft and yet very strong.
Our Mom was a great teacher and taught us many things by leading from example. She was so wise…no PhD after her name…but she possessed such insight to human behavior and human habits. An hour with her would set everything straight in your world and all worries would miraculously vanish. Eye contact with Mom would give her insight into your soul. She relied on the basic truth; eyes never lie.
Mom taught us to be proud…not the kind of pride ‘that make men fall’…but the kind that allows you to hold your head high and be proud of who you ARE, versus what you own. She taught us to be honest…as no one would argue with honesty, but there would be many who would find fault with deceit. It was important to her that we could wake each morning to see (and like) the same person in the mirror.
Mom taught us Faith, and to be faithful…not only to ourselves, but to others, and to respect ourselves so others would as well. Mom possessed a spirituality I have yet to find in another person. She believed in miracles and would glow when she could say; “my prayers have been answered.” She never failed to give her God credit for everything she received. She taught us how to pray. As a child, if I lost something, her solution was to pray to Saint Anthony. It worked every time. I always found what I thought I had lost!
A memory I will never forget was a time I went to Halifax with her, for cataract and glaucoma surgery. The prognosis was not encouraging; there was a 50/50 chance she would be totally blind after the surgery. I know she prayed hard and I sensed her fear although she thought she was keeping it well hidden. She never asked for miracles for herself and I know she was ready to accept that ‘HIS will would be done.” At that point, I knew it was our job…her families’ job…to step in and pray for her. I can still envision her extending her arms to me that day after her surgery…that day, when I realized “our prayers had been answered.”
What more can I possibly say? The hour and the day would never be long enough to pay tribute to Mom. Yes…I mourned Mom’s passing, but so as not to ruin her heaven…I don’t cry too much…or for too long. She would not have wanted that. Instead, each and every day, I thank God for the privilege of knowing her. My Mother left this earth the same way she lived…with grace…and with dignity.
Margaret Josephine …1913-2005
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