Not physically the hardest but emotionally and mentally. Mom didn't want a traditional type funeral service with someone giving her eulogy and a little service. So I've known for about 5 years that when that day came I would have to talk, and it sucked. And it is videoed. My good friend from school Scott, actually did a short message delivered a verse that I thought fit. I asked him to do a couple of verses thinking he would just do some simple readings, and then I would talk, but he gave a wonderful send off to Mom, way more than I could have asked for. And she would have really loved it, it was religious, thoughtful and even had baseball. I was super grateful for Scott's delivery and message and I really owe him one now.
Anyway after Scott got done doing such a great job, it was my turn, and this was the moment I literally dreaded for a long time. I had put a bunch of ideas into AI and had it spit out a eulogy type document that I tweaked. I knew Mom was close to dying for a while, but that doesn't make things easier, I also could have rambled on for quite a while talking about the things we did or how I felt, but I tried to keep it concise. When I read it in my head, it was about 9-10 minutes long. But reading it and ad-libbing a little through a stream of tears and choked up mumbling felt closer to 15 minutes. I apologize for it taking so long and no doubt sounding miserable. I did make some comments that elicited laughter like they were supposed to, because I know Mom would rather smile and laugh than cry. I don't think I will ever have to give an emotional speech like that again, nor do I want to. I honestly didn't know how I would react, thinking and talking about Mom in that situation knowing that I would never see her physical body again after that day, and it I tried to hold it together, but it was really hard for me. At least I know I'm not a sociopath, because I can display real emotions. Small consolation really, if that is a consolation at all. It didn't matter how many people were there or who they were (mostly family) it was going to be the same. It could have been 10 people or 200 and the delivery would have been absolutely the same. I knew I had to do it, because I was there when Mom asked for it and I saw the look in her face when she thought people would rather listen to stories of her rather than hear a preacher. But I think it worked out best, there was a very thoughtful message delivered by someone that Mom liked and was a fan of, and me and Bill spoke and told stories of Mom. My other brother Bob, wrote a letter that was really nice, but he didn't want to read it. At the grave site, Robin who runs the funeral home in Beallsville, made a speech and read a poem. It was cold, but sunny. After I spoke that day, I was pretty much done. People came up afterward and said it was good, but it wasn't in my mind. It was a terrible necessity that I knew I had to do and really wanted no part of it. I hate funeral day, visitations are one thing, but the day of the actual burial is usually pretty horrible at least that has been my experience. I'll include what I said here, just imagine me blubbering my way through most of it. Miss you Mom, Love C.B.
{I ad-lib some stuff here about Scott and how I appreciated what he had to say}
"Good Morning, I wrote this with the help of AI, because I
know that is what mom would have wanted.
Mom liked laughing way more than she liked crying. Just keep
that in mind, We’ll try to have a couple laughs here.
Today, we gather to celebrate the life of Shirley Smith, a
remarkable woman who lived for 95 years, in parts of 11 different decades. touching
the lives of so many along the way. As her youngest son, I stand here with a
heart full of memories, gratitude, and a deep appreciation for the complex
tapestry of life she wove or knitted.
Mom didn’t want a traditional funeral, and if you know mom
that kind of checks out. When Robin was describing it to her when she was
making pre-arrangements, she liked the idea of people getting up and telling
stories. Which is ironic, because Mom
hated doing anything if front of people.
For the longest time we tried to get her to play the organ for church,
and she did one time when Adam sang and that was about it. She said her hands
were shaking the whole time. I think she may have filled in a couple of
times, maybe, but she would much rather have worked behind the scenes. Sewing, knitting, baking, whatever someone
needed she was more than happy to make and give away. Mom
lived life a little different, some would say she lived 2 lives. The first she grew up, got married, worked,
had 4 kids and got divorced. In her
second life she got married, had another kid, had some knee surgeries, hip
replacement, another hip surgery and a couple of dogs along the way. I just
know Mom from her second life.
Shirley was, first and foremost, a loving mother to five
children. That is what she was proudest of.
Her love for us was fierce, and her affection shaped our lives in
countless ways. Mom had a strength of character that was both admirable and, at
times, formidable. But it was this very strength that guided us through life's
challenges and shaped us into who we are today. I feel like in a lot of ways I
am a reflection of her. Hers was a strength of perseverance.
Born in a different era, in the 1920’s and she made it to
the 2020’s, Mom's life spanned nearly a century of incredible change. She
adapted to new technologies, witnessed historical events, and navigated the
evolving landscape of family dynamics. At 47, when many might think their
family was complete, she embraced the surprise of a new arrival. I was her
unexpected gift, arriving when she thought she might be going through menopause
or struggling to lose weight for a Las Vegas trip. That was something I didn’t
know until recently, but it perfectly captures Mom's spirit - always ready for
life's surprises. Knees, hips, hospital
visits, living by herself she just took whatever life threw at her and she kept
on going.
Growing up as the youngest by far in our blended family,
with my closest sibling being 19 years older, I had a unique relationship with
Mom. In many ways, I grew up almost like an only child, which allowed us to
form a special bond. I don’t think I have ever spent more than 4 weeks away
from her, ever, maybe 6 once or twice and when she was going through rehab
during Covid I could only see her through a window. But this age gap meant that I saw a different
side of Mom than my siblings did, and it gave me a perspective on aging and
family that has shaped my own outlook on life.
I’m gonna go back to when I was young for a minute here. When
I went to preschool she said all she did was pace the floor that first day, worried,
but she still sent me to kindergarten that next fall when I was 4. By then I think she just wanted me out of the
house.
One memory that stands out to me is the day Mom came to get
me while I was playing basketball at school. I may have lost track of time, or
perhaps she was being a bit unreasonable – the details are fuzzy now. But what
I'll never forget is the sight of her marching into the school gym, wearing her
nightgown with her hair in rollers. She told me I needed to get home right now.
I'm pretty sure I set a land speed record driving from the high school to our
house that day, mostly out of anger. Looking back now, I can't help but laugh
at the image of Mom, in all her nighttime glory, determined to get her youngest
child home. It's a perfect example of her fierce devotion and no-nonsense
approach to parenting. While her anger could be formidable, moments like these
were rare, making them all the more memorable.
Some of the most cherished memories I have is our family
tradition of Sunday lunches, and the
Scavenger hunts we would save for her house on Easter Sunday. But Just
about every weekend, my wife, our two children, and I would visit Mom for these
special meals with whoever else could join in. These gatherings were more than
just about food; they were about family, love, and creating lasting memories.
Mom was an excellent cook for a long time, and she took great pride in
preparing meals for these family gatherings. Her homemade bread and buns were
legendary, especially her unique hotdog buns – homemade buns with a hotdog cut
in half and placed inside when they were cooked. As the kids got older, we
would playfully fight over these buns, with Mom acting as the fair arbitrator,
rationing out who got what. She also made a mean cheeseburger casserole that we
loved.
These Sunday lunches continued even as Mom aged, though the
dynamics changed. When we could no longer trust her to cook without the risk of
using expired ingredients, Deena stepped in to help with the cooking. But Mom's
presence and her role as the family matriarch remained constant. These moments
taught us about adapting to change while holding onto what's most important -
our connections with each other. We could still be around each other even if
things changed.
Shirley wasn't just a mother and grandmother; she was a
woman of many talents and passions. Her hands were rarely idle, often busy with
her beloved quilting and knitting projects or playing the organ when she had a
spare moment. The warmth of her handmade quilts wasn't just physical; it was a
tangible expression of her love for her family and friends. She was more than
happy to make something and give it away. Each stitch carried with it her care,
her thoughts, and her devotion. Sometimes she had multiple projects going, probably
had about 10 going at once before she left home. And if you have one of those
quilts or afghans just pull it out and think of her when you use it.
As we say goodbye to Mom today, we're not just mourning her
passing, but celebrating a life well-lived, really well lived. A life that
spanned nearly a century, filled with love, laughter, and yes, a few stern
looks when we stepped out of line. A couple of “Ooo C.B.”, probably get one of
those right now. Shirley Smith was a
mother, a creator, a force of nature, and a beacon of love, maybe even a
lighthouse like she loved so much.
Mom's journey, especially in her later years, has taught us
valuable lessons about life, aging, and the importance of health. It's reminded
us to cherish every moment, to take care of ourselves and each other, and to
find joy in the simple things - like a family meal or a warm, homemade quilt.
In reflecting on Mom's life, I'm reminded of a saying:
"You die twice. Once when you take your last breath, and again when
someone speaks your name for the last time." Today, as we share these
memories and stories, we're not just honoring Mom's life – we're ensuring that
her legacy lives on. By keeping her memory alive in our hearts and our
conversations, we postpone that second death indefinitely. Let us commit to
speaking her name, sharing her stories, and living out the lessons she
taught us.
Mom, we will miss your strength, your creativity, and even
your occasional scoldings. The quilts and afghans you've left behind will
continue to warm us, just as the memories of your cooking and our family
gatherings will forever warm our hearts. We'll think of you every time we see a
hotdog bun or smell a freshly baked loaf of bread.
Thank you, Mom, for everything – for your love, your
strength, your cooking, and for the countless memories we shared and when we go
longer than 4 weeks of seeing each other it’s on you. Love you."
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