On behalf of our whole family, I’d like to thank you all for coming. My mother outlived all her contemporaries, and all of you have been the core of her family for the last couple decades.  It means quite a bit to all of us…Ken and his family included, who couldn’t be here….it means a lot that you’re all here.

I also have to say…I could never get my mother to discuss funeral arrangements…but I think she’d be really pleased with this setting.  I know how much she loved her garden and her flowers…she planted big flats of flowers every year…I think she’d really enjoy this if she were here under different circumstances.

As all of you know, my mother was a very complicated person. She was the seventh of ten children of European immigrants, and she came from very humble beginnings. It seems to me that she never had much of a childhood, and that may have accounted for her overall approach to life, which was generally very serious.  At a young age, she was given many responsibilities in her family, including the care of her younger sister Wanda, who had significant medical challenges as a child.  Then, after high school, my mother stayed with her parents for six years while she worked full time and turned over her paycheck to help support the family.

I’m guessing that these experiences helped her develop the drive and ambition to rise above her origins. It was from this point that I believe she decided to be in control in her life. 

For the first six years of my parents’ marriage, my mother was a career woman who managed an office. She did not stop working until a few weeks before Ken was born, and then she chose to stay home with her children. In the early years of my childhood, she dressed like a woman of much higher status than my father’s blue collar job would allow.  She accomplished this by sewing her own dresses and making her own hats.  She saved her money to buy a mink stole, which she proudly wore to church anytime the weather would allow. She knew how to live on a budget, and when to spend money.  She made sure we visited the doctor and dentist for annual exams, and was very proud of the fact that she cooked meat every night for dinner, not casseroles. She made all my clothes, and always bought us one sensible good pair of shoes every year.

Although in the early years she sewed, cooked every night, and was an expert baker, unlike her friends who were homemakers, she always seemed restless to do more. After she wallpapered and upholstered almost everything in the house, she entered college.  She was a pioneer, one of the first of a generation of housewives who went to college, earned a degree, and had a career of her own. 

She used her income for extras:  she paid for cruises, invested in real estate, and every year bought herself an expensive piece of jewelry, which I believe was a way for her to acknowledge to herself that she had succeeded.

All of you knew her well, and you know that she could be opinionated and judgmental about a wide array of topics, especially in the last ten years of her life. No one disagrees that she could be difficult. As a matter of fact, once she reached eighty, she often said that she had earned the right to say exactly what she thought. Unfortunately, it was often rude or politically incorrect.

In spite of that, each one of us had affection for her for different reasons. Whether she was acting as a confidante, telling one of her stories, teaching somebody how to make pierogies, talking about her political opinions, or bragging about her grandchildren, she seemed to have an impact on everybody she encountered.  She was loyal and generous to her family, according to her vision of what was necessary.  For many years after her brother Walter was disabled as a result of a work injury, she spent minimally on holiday gifts for us, while purchasing clothes and furniture for him and his family, as she told us, “They need it more than you do”.

Once Ken and I moved away, there were many times she showed generosity for no apparent reason. One example comes to mind:  When I had been living on my own for about a year, I excitedly told her that I had saved money to buy a new couch. In what I thought was a casual conversation, she asked me about the store where I purchased the couch and when I was going to get it. I was stunned on delivery day when the couch arrived with a matching loveseat. She had arranged the surprise just because she thought my living room would look better with two pieces of furniture than one. And, her generous acts were not limited to financial ones:  she often sent my dad over with her homemade chicken noodle soup if somebody in my family was under the weather. 

My mother defined the terms of her existence. She wanted to always be in control.  She ran the show, she followed advice only if she agreed with it, and ignored it if she did not. Medical recommendations were like white noise to her.  I am astonished that she outlived almost all of her contemporaries who followed the rules, and she outlived them by doing things her way and not following the rules.

I learned many lessons from my mother, both positive and negative.  I learned to take responsibility for my behavior, I learned to hold my ground, to stand up for my beliefs, and to do whatever I set my mind to do. Those lessons have helped me reach my goals.  Ironically, the independence I developed from those life lessons probably annoyed her more than anything, and I suspect it was because she was deferential to her own very strong-willed mother.

Over most of her lifetime, my mother was not a physically affectionate or verbally demonstrative person.  It was only in the last six months of her life that she began to overtly express affection.   Whether this was because she evolved emotionally, or because several months after her stroke she started to recognize her own vulnerability, I believe the change in her behavior was due at least in part to the consistent kindness, patience and attentiveness from those who took care of her during her last year at Sunrise.  Their genuine concern and friendship helped her learn to relinquish control, which is something she had never been able to do. In the process, she seemed to experience some relief from her need to be in charge.

My mother lived a long productive life.  She lived it on her own terms and she left her mark on many people. It is my sincere hope that she is now free to experience a complete and everlasting peace.

Dearest Helen,
I have a precious last memory of us together this past winter, which I now cherish. You were in your chair, Ken and I on the park bench, around back of Sunrise Senior Living. We sat where we had a beautiful view of garden and flowers, with warm sunshine and a gentle wind blowing. Although your aphasia prevented communication, you were totally content with those moments ,your surroundings, and the presence of people you loved. Communication felt complete that afternoon, and yet it had no human sound! When it was time to part you wanted to stay-in the garden. Now my image is of you in a new, most magnificent garden, content spiritually at long last. Thank you for loving us as much as you did. You were the one who looked most forward to our visits home all these many many years, and cleared out your schedule completely. You were the one who cooked ahead all the favorite dishes, and called all Ken's friends to let them know we were coming. And then counted the days until we arrived. And truly, completely, savored the visit. Now that you are gone we feel orphaned-no more Betty Lane! We hope you will watch over us, and continue to gain contentment by our endeavors. And we hope we will always be able to make you proud. You always did love to brag! Please don't forget that we will still be in need of those bedtime prayers you were so famous for. We love you Grandma, and we will always miss you!

Eternal love from your one and only daughter-in-law, Marcia