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Recommended: Essay About Mother
I want to thank all of my Mother’s friends and family for being here today to celebrate her life and to mourn her death. I’m sure she would be thrilled to see all of you here and I know it would have meant the world to her.
I suppose that the way that these things are supposed to go is that I recap her life and tell all of the good things about her and all of the great things she did, and there are many, but I can only tell you about what my mother meant to me.
Everything good that is in me came wholly or in part from this woman. She taught me to love and to give, even when no one noticed my efforts. She taught me the value of hard work and dedication to our passions in life, the things that make us more than just animals. She taught me that there is value in every human life, regardless of how meek or downtrodden. The lesson I would like to talk about today is the lesson of the value of the fight, and to her very last day she continued that lesson.
My mother believed in the fight and she dedicated her life to helping others learn to do it as well. As a dependency nurse and counselor, she helped hundreds of patients who had lost their way in life to try to find something else to cling to, something that could help them deal with life without resorting to drugs or alcohol as an escape. Permanent success was rare, often she would see the same patient again a year or two later in the same position.
When she learned she had Cancer, she organized herself into a one-woman battle squad. Anyone who knew my mother knows that sitting down and letting the sickness take over was just not in her. She took the eighteen month prognosis they gave her , smiled, and threw it out the window. Shortly after her diagnosis,...
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...his day, and I’m absolutely sure that she would love it.
I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean. She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky meet each other.
Then someone at my side says” “There, she is gone!”
“Gone where?”
Gone from my sight. That is all. She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me, not her. And just at the moment when someone at my side says, “There, she is gone!” there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout: “Here she comes!”
And that is dying.
One of my earliest memories of Grandpa begins with us driving to the Monmouth Park Racetrack. We sure did love to go to the track and root for Julie Krone or one of our other favorite jockeys. He loved challenges, and he especially loved the challenge of picking the ponies. He would read the race programs in the Asbury Park Press and usually pre-pick most of the day's favorite horses before ever leaving the house. Still, on arrival, we always bought the program and maybe a race sheet or two before entering the track grandstand. After picking up a couple of seats right around the finish line or maybe a little past it, back to figuring he'd go. As he went, grandpa would always point out the horses that had won recently or looked like they were due. "I have a feeling about this one" he'd say.
On behalf of my entire family, I want to thank all of you for your compassion and for being present here today. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Mauri-Lynne, and I'm Lionel's daughter. Dad was devoted to every one of you. We all hope that you'll share your memories of him with us, if not today then in the weeks and months to come.
I stand before you today to pay my last respects, and to say my final goodbyes, to my father Harry.
Thank you to all of our amazing family and friends for everything you have done. Words aren’t enough to express our love and gratitude we have for you.
Eulogy for Father As you all know, there were certain things Loyd liked -- dogs, and poker games, football, and airplanes -- and there were certain things he didn’t like -- carrots, political speeches, telephone solicitations (especially those made by insurance men), and long-winded eulogies. I won’t do that because for every story that I could tell today about Loyd, his friends here today could tell fifty more. I am very secure in the knowledge that Loyd lived every day of his life to the fullest and I feel that Mother and Delia Ruth are secure in that knowledge as well. And we are very grateful to you all for being here today with us to honor his life.
Theresa Smith was born on December 3, 1925 in Materson, NJ. She died in Williamsville on March 2, 2005, at age 80. Theresa Smith was great grandmother of one, grandmother of five of us, mother of three, sibling of three sisters and two brothers, and wife to one great man, my grandfather, Ron Smith.
I would like to thank you all for coming to Arlyn's funeral. I am truly touched that you care enough to show your support for us and your respect for Arlyn this way.
I, of course, knew my mother as a mother. As I have reached adulthood and become a mother myself, I have also known her as a friend. My mom shared much of herself with me, and I saw sides of my mother as she struggled with her cancer that I had never seen before, especially her strong belief in positive thinking and the importance of quality of life. I was privileged to know so many facets of my mother, but certainly I did not know all. There were parts of her life that I didn’t see, relationships that I didn’t know about. Last night, at the wake, so many stories were told to me about my mom’s strength, courage, humor, kindness, her quietness, her loyalty as a friend. It was so special to hear of these things that my mom said and did, to know some of these other parts of her life. I hope that her friends and family will continue to share these stories with me and with each other so we can continue to know and remember my mom.
I believe that every person in, in their own unique way, creates a legacy in their lifetime by which others can live long after that person has left us. For those of us who remain, Mildred Johnson has truly created a legacy to uphold and fulfill in our daily lives. I firmly believe that this carrying out is a true honor and responsibility by means of the various facets that Mildred has made her own.
Before I begin I would like to thank all of you here on behalf of my mother, my brother and myself, for your efforts large and small to be here today, to help us mark my fathers passing.
I would shut my eyes because I knew what was coming. And before I shut my eyes, I held my breath, like a swimmer ready to dive into a deep ocean. I could never watch when his hands came toward me; I only patiently waited for the harsh sound of the strike. I would always remember his eyes right before I closed my own: pupils wide with rage, cold, and dark eyebrows clenched with hate. When it finally came, I never knew which fist hit me first, or which blow sent me to my knees because I could not bring myself to open my eyes. They were closed because I didn’t want to see what he had promised he would never do again. In the darkness of my mind, I could escape to a paradise where he would never reach me. I would find again the haven where I kept my hopes, dreams, and childhood memories. His words could not devour me there, and his violence could not poison my soul because I was in my own world, away from this reality. When it was all over, and the only thing left were bruises, tears, and bleeding flesh, I felt a relief run through my body. It was so predictable. For there was no more need to recede, only to recover. There was no more reason to be afraid; it was over. He would feel sorry for me, promise that it would never happen again, hold me, and say how much he loved me. This was the end of the pain, not the beginning, and I believed that everything would be all right.
Hey, I wanted to tell you I finally got to meet your son. I also got to see how much Gio struggles not just financially but also physically. Something that I’m sure you don’t know what it is since you didn't change your life not one bit to benefit your son life. I am aware of what you so call "truth" how you try to contact gio to see your son. Sure once in a while that you send her messages but actions speak louder than words. I myself would have do the same, if the father of my son was using me as a punching bag. Just because you & Gio didn't work out doesn't take away the fact you brought a baby into this world. By no means is it the baby's fault yet because that’s who really is suffering. Your mother very well had the guts to show up empty handed to gio house.
I have thought about this for a while now. Therefore, after the incident yesterday I decided it would be best if I got this off my chest. I love the two of you with all my heart. Nothing gives me more joy than to see the two of you happy. Happy with, school, job, boyfriends, kids, spending time with each other…life.
There have been a vast number of lives that have touched mine. Many different people have shared a piece of their soul in my formation. However, it is my mother who is the most important and most influential person in my life. My mother raised me by herself since the day I was born. My father was abusive and she left to make a better life for the both of us. She has worked as many as four jobs at one time. My mother wants to make sure my brothers and I have a better life than she did. It hasn’t always been easy for her, taking care of us on her own, trying to pay bills and making sure we had everything we needed. My mom has always had us involved in sports at a very young age. We always were doing something or involved in something growing up. We went to summer school all through elementary school because she wanted us to get a head start. I remember when we were little she enrolled us I a manners and more class and I can recall when we would go out to eat people would compliment us on how well behaved we were.
... my body and mind. She credits her mental and physical health to her constant reading and walking. At 78 years old, she is still the quick-witted person I have always known and loved. Cathy has aged gracefully, and I honestly hope I can do the same.