Writing a eulogy for my mother

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I dont know if she had actually been diagnosed with raynauds or if she had just diagnosed herself, but she would often excuse her cold hands with the self-deprecating, yet informative response, sorry. . Later in her life, after she had been sick for some time and her own muscles had atrophied, she used to hold my hand in hers and explore the muscles in my forearm with the other, admiring the health and strength she felt there. . It was a funny little habit of hers that Id often see her repeat with my friends and people shed meet. . It was odd behavior, but i also knew it to be a tremendous compliment. . If mom ever squeezed, groped or caressed your forearm, take heart: it meant she liked you. As a young mom and adult, my mom excelled at tennis and golf. .

Hands on her well-worn leather bound bible at the donut shop or Fats or Petes coffee in Berkley places she would take me to eat while she read and studied her bible. Hands in my hair, curling it into the perfect bowl cut when I was little or pulling it back into a ponytail after I dislocated my elbow in junior high. Hands giving another driver the finger while Scott and I ducked to the floor of the car, humiliated. Hands that taught Scott and me how to throw a baseball, dribble a basketball, properly pull up a weed and plant flowers in the yard. Hands that cupped the heads of my newborn babies two of which she saw born with her own eyes and tickled their necks and toes as they got older. Hands that clapped and cheered for me and for my kids, more loudly than anyone elses. Hands on a racket, a golf club, a hiking stick. Her hands were functional, working hands. . And they were always cold. . Among my moms many ailments was her nards; a bastardized moniker for raynauds Disease a vascular condition associated holy with cold hands and feet that only my mom could have come up with. .

writing a eulogy for my mother

For, a mother - your Tribute

Women like serena williams, martina navratilova, brandi Chastain and oliver the us womens Soccer team. My mom was a very tactile, physical person. . Almost as soon as I learned the awful news that my mom had passed away, i began to think about her hands. . I was overcome by a compelling need to see, touch and hold her hands one more time. . When I finally did, i felt like thomas, fingering Jesus wounds, needing to really know with my mind and my body that she was gone. My moms cool, dry hands with their neatly trimmed and usually unpainted nails embodied so much of her spirit and are deeply connected to many of my memories of her: Hands holding a book as she reads to me, seated on her lap. Her small, finely boned fingers counting my vertebrae an affectionate gesture i loved and found soothing as a child, laying beside her on her bed.

writing a eulogy for my mother

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She was competent and capable. . Slightly subversive and irreverent sometimes breaking the rules just to prove she wood couldnt be mastered. . She was impetuous and independent. . i always loved to hear her tell the story of when, as a young high school cheerleader, she would shoot free throws during halftime in front of the student body. . Who was going to challenge a pint-sized, blond powerhouse who could hit you in the head with a rock from 40 yards away? . You can ask her sister, kathy.). She had Bachelors and Masters Degrees in education. . Before she became a mother, she taught pe at Butler Junior High School in seattle and coached the womens volleyball team at Merritt College here in oakland. As my husband can attest, she was a big supporter of Title nine and many of her heroes were women with exceptional physical or mental strength and courage usually athletes. .

diana is the inspiration behind diana Prince also known as Wonder Woman; a super-powered heroine, an Amazonian princess and the female equal to superman. I dont know if my grandparents gave my mothers name much thought. . Did they have some clairvoyant premonition about the woman she would become? . Regardless, whether you knew her as diana, dida, dani or Didi, you no doubt see the resemblance my mom bore to her namesake. As a little girl, my mom seemed immortal to me; a powerful, magnetic and sometimes imposing woman. . A force to be reckoned with. . She moved through life not so much like the proverbial pistol, but like a bullet shot from it; a small, dense, slug of iron and energy on a sure and unstoppable trajectory.

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writing a eulogy for my mother

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A woman a lifetime is greater than the sum of its parts. And I was only one part of her life. I cannot possibly memorialize the complexities and nuances of her soul, her personality, her 72 years of living in a 10 minute eulogy. What follows is my feeble attempt at reflecting on my moms life, what she taught me and my feelings about both: In Roman mythology, diana was the goddess of the hunt, the moon and a protector of women. . She was the daughter of Jupiter the romans nathaniel version of zeus and the twin sister of Apollo, the god of light and music.

According to the ancient Romans, diana was a maiden goddess who swore never to marry. . She was known for her independence and physical strength. . Shakespeare alludes to diana in at least ten of his most famous works. . In ancient art and sculpture, she is often portrayed with a bow and a quiver of arrows, wearing a short tunic and hunting boots. . Sometimes she is depicted with a pack of wild dogs at her heels. She is fierce and strong. . She is feared and revered. .

It may sound morbid and depressing (maybe it is morbid and depressing!) but if I could experience my moms service again the viewing, the ceremony, the burial as many times over for as long as I wanted to, i would. . Those five hours represented the only time in the last two weeks when the world felt right when everyone around me was united by our shared grief and nothing else. My brother (left) and my cousin at the reception following my moms memorial and burial services. Me and some of my cousins. My moms close friend and twin sister. But the clock tick-tick-ticks towards the buzzer that will signal the end of my allotted mourning period (or so it feels).


Tomorrow, Ill see my dad off and return to work. . Ill read and reply to emails, attend meetings and schedule new ones. . Ill put on makeup and curl my hair. . Ill plan my sons birthday celebration and order Halloween costumes for my kids. . I will try, try, try to return to my normal life, even though I feel like a hollowed out shell of a person, and hope that it will start to heal me this normalcy eventually. Among the more positive tasks on the list of death Shit to deal with was crafting some sort of eulogy for my moms service.  Knowing others would be sharing their reflections about my mom, too, i consoled myself with the thought that, together, we might paint a picture of my moms life that resembled something close to the truth. My head is clouded at the best of times. . There were many moments these past two weeks when I wondered if i knew my mom at all if any woman can ever be fully known.

My, mother by darcy leech — reviews, discussion

I would like to be a full-time griever. In a perfect world, these would be the only things on my to-do list and even gpa these would be completely optional for as long as necessary: wake upwhenever. Cry, moan, keen, wail or blubber. Take a hot bath. Sit and stare into space. I wish grief were like a global-wide snow day and the whole world would shut down for a while. But life has continued on around me as if nothing has changed. For the last two weeks, instead of being a full-time griever, ive been taking care of my kids, my job, my grieving father and handling what can only be described, inelegantly, as death Shit: logistical tasks like ordering casket sprays, selecting burial clothes or coordinating.

writing a eulogy for my mother

She would not have missed the party. Also see: How to Write a eulogy, eulogy Writing Checklist. Sample eulogy for Mother, sample eulogy for Father, sample eulogy for Grandmother. Sample eulogy for Friend. Ill be honest: i am sort of limping along right now. The health only thing I really want to do is grieve. Full-time.

the way, we all were meant to learn some things, but never meant to stay. Our destination is a place, far greater than we know. For some the journey's quicker, for some the journey's slow. And when the journey finally ends, we'll claim a great reward, And find an everlasting peace, together with the lord. Author Unknown, i think this poem gives us an inside look into how our mom viewed the world both in life and death. . It has provided our family with great comfort. . i know that as we all gather today, our Mom is with. .

Over the last few years, we all saw how her health deteriorate. . Her spirit of fun, and zest for life was always present. . She insisted on being present at all family functions whether it was a graduation ceremony, a friend's wedding, Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas, or just a regular Saturday family gathering. On our last night with our mom, we spent the whole night praying with her. . She was always a spiritual person, and i know william it was her faith that helped her through those last few months. . When I left my mom that night, she called my name as I walked out the door. . When I turned around, she just smiled, and i know she had made and found her peace with Life. As I was cleaning out her house, i found this poem in her nightstand. .

A, eulogy for, eduardo far Flungers roger Ebert

What can I say about my mom? . For those of you that knew my mom, she was not only the life of the party but often the reason for the party. . She use to always say to us "Don't be so serious, life is too short, just have fun". In her late 30's, mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. . As some of you may know, parkinson's disease affects the brain and muscular control of the person that has the disease. . I remember when Mom was diagnosed over 15 years ago, she was firm, gentle, hopeful, yet well aware of the way her life was changing. . There is no cure for Parkinson's disease, and over the years that followed her diagnosis, i admired her spirit and the way she woke up each day, drove us kids to school, and was standing at write the door smiling when we got home from school.


writing a eulogy for my mother
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My mother worked hard throughout her life, sometimes 50 or 60 hours per week. Pearson s do not there my mother -in-law last link eulogia, both writing guide outlining. It was difficult for me as well, but I had my writing to support.

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