My mother, Mary, passed away suddenly on August 22. The following is the eulogy she delivered at her funeral Mass that Saturday. Many of my friends and family have asked me to post this, for their support, for me and for my mom, thank you all for being there.
Thank you all for coming today. Thank you Father Paul for his special words for Mom. Thanks to Father Powers for having us back here at St. Patrick’s, my mother and father’s second home. Thanks to Sister Flora, my mother’s high school classmate, for helping to organize this Mass. Thank you to all of our friends and family for being here and especially everyone at the Center, my mom’s home for the past three years. Please forgive me if I forget a name or two as I go along.
Well, I have to tell you that I really believed that I would not speak at my mother’s funeral because the joke between us was that she would outlive me. But I know that God has other plans: some fundraiser, a church bazaar, or a religious education program to run in heaven.
My mother and I had a typical fine line mother-daughter relationship. So there was always a lot of sarcasm, lots of laughter, arguments, special moments, problems avoided, and most of all, love.
My mom was called by many names –
Maria Caldera
Mary Parmel
Mommy
mrs parmal
Miss Mary
Mommy
Maria Carmela
Maria baby
Me
And she had a lot of, shall we say, idiosyncrasies.
She was organized. My mom worked for Cohn, Hall, Marx in the textile industry where she was a “Bill of Lading” clerk; keeping things in order was her strong point. From the candy table with Marie Marzigliano, to the collection and distribution of Milk Money, to her beloved library, my mother organized everything her way. She kept meticulous records of all the fundraising activities and programs she was in charge of and taught me to do the same.
My mother was relentless. She always knew that she would pester many, if not all, to “buy your lunch tickets”, “get chance books”, etc. – Janet Adler will testify to this that my mother put in you the fear of Mary (which was much stronger than that of God) that you didn’t get into the festivities if you weren’t paid first.
Mom was a good sport. She was made fun of by her best: my dad, Marty, George and many others, including me; being chased by Nino and a two-pound lobster, her camp being invaded by Lella & Rae with a full restaurant setup: she took all the taunts, though she protested. She never admitted it, but she loved being the center of attention. She was always ready to share a laugh, and she usually had a good one-line response.
My mother was a good listener. When you could get to my mom’s ear with a problem you had, she would listen for hours. She’d ask all the right questions, she’d give you her opinion, and she’d usually leave you with something like, “I know it’s not easy, but hang in there!”
My mother was our own news source. She always took pride in watching the news, Court TV, “Meet the Press” and more, although someone, usually my father or I, had to explain the nuances of it to her. I’m a Today Show baby to this day because she always made sure we watched together in the mornings when she was little; she worked on the Electoral Board for years and, if she could have, she would have revamped the entire system long before last year’s elections, single-handedly!
My mother was loyal. She was the middle child who stayed home; she married young to her high school sweetheart, my dad, Ernie. They helped my Aunt Flo when she became a widow with Patrick and Debbie: my father and mother spent their weekends helping around the house, playing with the kids and being a shoulder for her sister. She took care of my grandparents, of all of them, without ever making a distinction between her own parents and her in-laws. She was not lucky enough to be a birth mother, but she was, as she always said, “blessed to have the best day of her life, when I held you in my arms”: the day she and my father made the trip. Guardian Angel to pick me up. She was the contact with my father’s family in Gibraltar, although she never met them because we were family. She stayed by my father’s side until she breathed her last ten years ago. She talked to her brother-in-law, my Uncle Mort every day sharing her “isms” and more of her. She talked to her best friend, my Aunt Mary D. every day.
Mary Parmel, the librarian, was a weekly reminder to hundreds of children who attended St. Patrick’s School. She started volunteering here when I entered first grade and left only after forty-three years and her health problems got the better of her. “Put your meat inside”, “What are the Magic Words?” “Make sure to return the books as you found them” were just some of the commands, which she also used at home.
My mother was possessive. She always introduced Rae as “hers friend first” to her, and the ladies and men of the Center staff were all her “her favorites” and shared many lunches, trips, and evenings with her. yard. And that possessiveness of hers made her the biggest supporter of hers; she would do anything she could, right down to holding the hand of a friend on her floor in the nursing home, right up until last week when that friend passed away.
My mother was a sweet and charming lady. Many of you have told me that. My response used to be, “Thanks, but you don’t live with her!” My mother, as well as her sister and her brother, could leave you with a look, and fortunately only a few of us know the reprimands she could dish out when she was angry. She would never admit the bad side of her; just to remind me to “take it easy”, especially with her. A deep breath, a roll of the eyes, and a “Don’t tell Janie” were usually on the cards.
Every day for the past ten years, I have been blessed with my mother. We became closer than ever; we talk about everything. We did things we hadn’t done before, like vacations to Maryland, trips to the casino, and family gatherings like our “Meatball Experience” at Colleen’s house so we could all learn the recipe from her.
It is never easy to lose a father, you just realize that he will always be there. I have to come to appreciate the support my mother always gave me; She may not have always told me directly, but she was my biggest fan, my confidante, my accomplice. I will miss our phone calls three times a day. I’m so happy that the last time I saw her, when she said to me, “I love you, Jane,” as she had heard a billion times before, I said something to my niece Michelle. she says each time: “Mom, I love you more!”
To use some Mary-isms, “This was expected but unexpected” – “I knew it was coming-ish”; but for all of us, as she would say, “I know it’s not easy, but hang in there”…
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