Title: Choose Life: A Eulogy For My Mother Word Count: 1189 Summary: After a long illness, my mother passed

away in June 2006. Even though we all kne w she had little time left, her death still came as a shock. My brothers helped me write the eulogy, and I delivered it. I almost made it thr ough, maintaining my composure and humor right to the end. But, final goodbyes a re never easy. With the last sentence, a poignant and personal message to our mo ther from my brothers and myself, I lost it. To cry at your mother s funeral is na tural and exp... Keywords: writing, eulogy, loss of parent, grieving, inspiration, books, author, public sp eaking Article Body: After a long illness, my mother passed away in June 2006. Even though we all kne w she had little time left, her death still came as a shock. My brothers helped me write the eulogy, and I delivered it. I almost made it thr ough, maintaining my composure and humor right to the end. But, final goodbyes a re never easy. With the last sentence, a poignant and personal message to our mo ther from my brothers and myself, I lost it. To cry at your mother s funeral is na tural and expected. But being an author, and being comfortable with public speak ing, I thought I could manage it. I humbly acknowledge grief trumped self-contro l. And then there are the relatives and friends, many of which I hadn t seen in decad es. Of course, one must always be polite and gracious when someone offers condol ences and a sympathetic hug. But, what do you do when you haven t a clue who the d evil the person is? Years pass, people change. More than once, I had to discreet ly ask a trusted relative, Who is that? Then, I had to hide my shocked expression when I realized time has been kinder to me than to others of my bloodline, or to my old friends. We got through it. At the luncheon after the funeral, I said goodbye not just to my mother, but to many aunts, uncles, cousins and friends some of which I would see again and some I know I will not. It is an odd experience, looking in the f ace of your own mortality. My father died ten years ago. And now my mother is go ne. It becomes a reality check, to do what there is to do while there is still t ime. That being the case, I am writing again. I am happily anticipating the release o f my second book, Sins and Secrets. And I am thrilled to be an Aphrodisia author . It is a wonderful rush to jump back into the deep end of my life! My Mother s Eulogy Welcome everyone and thank you for coming. We are here to remember and say goodb ye to our Mother. She fought the good fight, being as tenacious as a pit bull an d never giving up. But finally, after more than thirty years of dealing with var ious conditions and illnesses, she has found peace.

Mother was the sort of mother who never stopped worrying about her children, no matter what age we were. Were we eating well? Were we getting enough sleep? Were we staying well and not catching colds or the flu? She kept after our father in the same way, but they were also a couple who enjoy ed each other s company very much. Mom and Dad were best friends as well as husban d and wife. They had fun together. They loved to dance together, particularly th e polka. They also often took us on joy rides to the local woods, sharing their enjoyment of the forest with us and showing us how to spot deer at sunset. One of those rides wasn t as much fun. Mom and Dad took us on an unmarked dirt roa d, trying to see some deer. Dad found himself down in a gully. He tried to turn around, and couldn t. We were stranded overnight until lumbermen came to work the next morning and found us. Evidently the road was a logger road, not meant for p assenger traffic. As I will explain in a moment, thanks to Mother s planning, we w ere OK. It was scary, but it was kind of fun. Both my brothers and I were all toilet-trained the same way. Mother s technique w as to be with us in the bathroom, run the faucet, and softly say, Rain, rain, rai n. It worked. In fact, the suggestion has lasted the three of us into adulthood. With all the rain we ve had the last few days, my brothers and I have needed to st ay within easy range of a bathroom. Mother loved music and sang in the choir. She particularly loved country music, which the three of us hated at the time. The Saturday night ritual was always C ountry Music Jubilee, then Hee Haw, then the Grand Ole Opry on the radio. She loved gardening, both for glorious beautiful flowers and for food. Speaking of food, Mother made the best fried chicken. She put the Kentucky Fried Chicken secret recipe to shame. For holidays and family gatherings, she cooked tremendou s amounts of food, and still worried whether there was enough for everyone to ea t. And while she was cooking, she would sample the food, and at mealtime, while everyone else stuffed themselves, she couldn t eat much more. Mother had real artistic ability. One of the times she best displayed it was at Christmas. We always had huge trees and many decorations around the house, but M other s crowning achievement was found under the tree. She sculpted an elaborate v illage there, with mirrors for frozen lakes, pine seedlings, or crow s feet for mini ature trees, and boxes and props to create multilevel hills and mountains. She w ould cover the hills with white sheets and cotton to simulate snow. Her village was like Christmas Wonderland to us. My brother continues this tradition in his home. Mother was the only girl in her family, and she got into hunting just as much as her brothers did. I m sure a lot of you recall a character Johnny Carson played o ccasionally on The Tonight Show. His name was Floyd R. Turbo, American, and he w ould make silly editorial comments on the issues of the day, but dressed differe ntly from other TV commentators. When Mother was going to go hunting, she would put on a red Woolrich jacket and a hat with ear flaps, the resemblance was prett y amazing. I couldn t resist calling her Floyd R. Turbo, American. I think she wa s somewhat amused. Or else I would call her the Great White Huntress. And she wa s a successful hunter. Remember what I told you about Mother being prepared when we were stuck on the l ogging road? Our Mother made emergency preparedness an art form. No matter where she went, she packed for any potential disaster. On picnics, we packed boxes fu ll of food, enough for a small army, the grill, all the lawn furniture and extra clothes in case one of us fell into the water. When she went to my brother s coll ege graduation, she took the toaster and the coffee pot to the motel. And when s he traveled anywhere away from home, we had to lock down the kitchen sink so she

wouldn t take it. Through it all, Mother was motivated by her desire to do the best she could for us. Every night she would send us to sleep by saying, Good night, sweet dreams, I love you. For the rest of her life, she would continue to send us off with those words. So it is only fitting that now we are able to say the same to send her o ff. So, Mother, good night, sweet dreams, we love you.