On behalf of my family, I’d like to thank everyone for being here. It’s clear from this turnout that my mother impacted the lives of more people than she ever realized, and that she’s loved by everyone that knew her. I’ve literally never heard anyone say a bad word about my mother, with the exception of me when I was a teenager. (and I was blessed to have the opportunity to apologize for that a couple months ago)

Throughout this reception, we are going to hear some words and stories that will give insight into the person Elaine was. We’ll hear from her sister, Barbara, who will share some important memories. Next, her oldest son Ken will have some remarks and a special song. We’ll then hear from her dear friend Cheryl, who will give insight into Elaine as an educator and as a friend. Her daughter, Genevieve, will then share some of our mother’s own writing. 

If there’s one thing I know will shine through, it’s that my mother was among the most selfless human beings who ever walked the earth. Now, obviously, as her son, I have the perspective of seeing my mother always put my needs above hers, always worrying about Ken, Genevieive, and me more than anything else. But I’m sure that everyone else in this room has a similar memory of my mother. That she was generous, thoughtful, kind, caring, supportive, and never asked for recognition or reciprocation.

My mother survived cancer twice, once in 1995 and again in 2003. Perhaps it was naive of me, but I never really worried much about my mother’s health, because she was always so reassuring and always rebounded so quickly. And also, as my dad said to me at one point during this whole ordeal, “your mother’s not a whiner.” My mom never complained about anything. When she found out she had a recurrence of the renal cancer that was first diagnosed in 2003, her first response to my father was: “You know I’ve had 16 good years,” smiling. And, to be honest, they were 16 of her greatest years. 

After my mother had her kidney removed, she and my dad really started enjoying life in a way they hadn’t let themselves until then. Unburdened by the pressure of providing for 3 children, and becoming more aware of how precious time can be, this is when they started traveling more. They both became healthier and more active. It’s when I really started to see my parents actually get closer and express their love for one another even more. It’s when I feel like I really got to see my mother and father enjoy the life they had worked so hard to build.

Those 16 years also included the second half of my mother’s second career. Something I’ve always found special about my mom is the fact that she was able to primarily be a mother for 15 years, and then started an over 20-year career as a special education teacher. I’ll always appreciate the fact that my mother was there when we were growing up, but I really think that her second career was her calling. There are others here who can better attest than I, but I have no doubt that I can say without hyperbole, there was not a better special education teacher in the country. She approached her job with an unrivaled vibrance and intellect, and truly dedicated her energy into improving the lives of young people who might otherwise have been left behind.

The last 2 months of my mother’s life were difficult. She had just retired a few years ago. She and my dad had just finished their 16th annual trip to Europe, having finally covered the last bits of Spain they’d never been to. We thought they would have more time together. It was hard on everyone to watch someone who we’d always known as so healthy, so vibrant, so youthful, begin to have difficulty for the first time.

But there was also something magical that happened. My mother was selfless. She gave to everyone. And, as she so focused on others, I’m not sure she loved having others focus on her. I don’t know that, for most of her life, my mother really grasped just how important she was. But, during this time, it was undeniable how loved and cared for she was. For the first time in her life, mom had to let others care for her. Her husband stepped up in ways he’d never had to. Her sister spent many days caring for her. All 3 of her children were able to return just a bit of the love she’d given us all, by nurturing and supporting her in a way we never thought we’d have to. 

I’m so sad that we had to say goodbye to my mother. But I am grateful that, in the end, there was no denying how loved she was, and that I think she finally understood this in a way she never had.

Later childhood memories stand out of her as an encouraging mentor. As soon as it became obvious to her that I was interested in road signs, she started collaborating with me on miniature road signs made from construction paper. And I’ll never forget how she delighted in reminding me about the time I came up with a clever question by combining two facts I had learned on two different school days: If fire needs oxygen, and there’s no oxygen in space, how does the sun burn? “That would have been a great question in the old days,” she said.

As I grew, my relationship with my mother grew as well. Looking back, I’m impressed by how consciously my mother adjusted the way she treated me as I got older. Just shy of my 12th birthday, she sat down with me to read me a copy of the now-classic book, "Love You Forever," essentially preparing me for the inevitability that she would grow old and die. A few months after my 18th, she let me in on the fact that my parents had always been planning on granting me freedom of movement when I turned 18. And I’ll never forget the conversation we had when I was 21 and living in Chicago when she apologized, unprompted, for mistakes she felt she had made while raising me. I accepted her apology but told her I honestly had no regrets.

Eighteen of my adult years were spent living in New York City, far away from my mother. Though she was no longer a constant presence in my life, she remained an anchor, always a phone call away. Many of my fondest memories of her involve wisdom she imparted during these calls. A year or two into living in New York, I was playing around with the notion of going back to college. I called my mom to talk it through. I expressed apprehension about making such a long-term investment. “What if I spend all this time working towards a degree and then get hit by a bus?” My mother’s response guides me to this day. “Well,” she said, “if that happens then you’ll be dead and you won’t care anyway.”

So many of my mother’s aphorisms are now part of my make-up. I hear my mother every time I tell someone that “hunger is the best sauce” or that I’ve had an “aha experience.” It might as well be her voice coming out of my mouth when I tell someone “I read an article about that.” I also think of my mother every time I wipe down a table top and catch the crumbs with my free hand. Or when I put a napkin in my lap and fold one edge over so I can use it to wipe my mouth. I’m not sure if I have my mother’s knack for knowing the exact moment to transition from patiently listening as someone vents their problems to offering a sage bit of advice, but it’s what I aspire to.

One thing I’ve always appreciated about both of my parents is that I’ve never felt pressure to accomplish any common milestones such as graduating from college, getting married, or having children. Still, I could tell how excited my mom was when I called her up to tell her I was going to marry Danielle. Her response was to hold her breath for a split second and then blurt out, delightedly, “son of a bitch!” I assume she didn’t mean it literally.

These are snapshots. Fragments of memories that represent to me things I think of as her essence: Joy, encouragement, respect, wisdom, and the legacy that lives within those she touched. But the most prominent things I will always remember about my mother are her warmth and her love. And those, I think, are best expressed by these words, which I learned in 1983 as part of the Kindergarten Showcase:

Mother, dear,

Mother, dear,

Every morning you greet me.

When I call back to you

You look happy to meet me.

Thanks for the gifts,

For my favorite foods,

For all we share together.

Through the years,

Smiles and tears.

I will love you forever.