Tribute To Mom: A Circle Of Life Complete

All years come to an ending and new ones begin

My mom died unexpectedly but peacefully in her sleep in December and went to meet my Dad. She died as gracefully as she had lived her 86 years. We children used to joke – half-seriously – that she would outlive us all. Her death was a fitting end and expression of a charmed life.

She and my father belonged to a generation that believed in and lived the qualities of integrity, decency, courtesy, responsibility, honor and self-discipline. Proper manners and respect both for others and one’s self were assumed to be as basic as brushing your teeth or saying grace before dinner. These minimal standards were not considered unusual in that world of household chores, bedtime stories, thank you cards, family breakfasts and sit down dinners around the table every night.

Some of my earliest memories were of her stories that illustrated the innocence of her childhood. A typical example related her shocked response in school at the age of 12 of, “Of course there is a Santa Claus!” The ability to laugh at herself never left her. “How silly of me” or “Oh Barbara, you’re not paying attention” were her spontaneous responses to rare cases of clumsiness.

Always upbeat, even after losing her eyesight, she never lost her enthusiasm or curiosity for life. She combined grace and elegance with a zaniness and sincerity that touched everyone who know her. She made life fun and magical, especially when we were children. In my eyes she was a mix of Grace Kelly and Lucille Ball. We looked forward to the summer Midwestern thunderstorms, when Mom would close all the curtains in the house, douse the lights and in near pitch darkness we would play hide and seek.

Throughout my days living at home, she always remembered the names of my friends. She held my high school and college pals dear and the late night feasts in the kitchen on Greenway Avenue were the stuff of legend! Leftover flank steak, cold turkey and durkees sandwiches, chocolate chip cookies, and on and on.

Mom came from a land where emotions were honored, practiced and understood, not expressed in words. A remarkable thing was that I knew I was deeply loved and cared for, yet she never said, “I love you.” I never fully understood that, but I believe actions speak louder than words, and don’t feel cheated by her reticence or doubt to the smallest degree that she loved me.

I began with an ending and I’ll end with a beginning. My mother is gone and all that is lost when that happens is gone too. What does remain is the example she set and the knowledge that going forward every day is precious. To best honor her is to pick up the torch she passed – and by my example to do my part in a tradition that will never be completed. That is, the opportunity this New Year presents until in it too passes away to give way to another beginning.

I love you Mom. You’ve left a big hole behind, and bigger shoes to fill.

Neil Funsch has been a mortgage broker for 18 years, the last five in Park Hill. He can be reached at 303-229-2684 or neil.funsch@gmail.com.