All who knew Kathy, Mom, described her as tireless. Whether it her social work, physical labor or just being a mother her inexhaustible drive to help, is without question.
When reflecting on my childhood that description “Tireless” is ever so pertinent. Those of you who didn't know or don't remember, I was a trying child. You see, at a very early age I became aware of my rights …
the right to say no
the right to refuse without comment
the right to refuse with comment
the right to say "I don't care"
and most importantly the right to argue non-disputed subjects.
I was not going to do anything until I had a full deposition on exactly how the request, or reply, or non-disputed subject reconciled with my rights.
A typical exchange might start with me asking Mom a question such as: “What's for dinner?”
Mom replied: “We're having spaghetti“
My retort: “I don't have to eat spaghetti”
Mom calmly responded: “Your right you don't, but that's what's for dinner.”
As an adolescent absolutist I proclaimed my rights countless time. Typical decrees included:
“I don't have to pick up my clothes”
“I don't have to wear boots in the winter”
“I don't have to go to sleep now”
“I don't have to, take a shower, brush my teeth, wear shoes, do my homework, get my hair cut ….
And each time, Mom allowed me..helped me to realize why I should do something even if I didn't have to do that something.
Doing things because you should not because you're required, is how Mom lived. This simple juxtaposition, should do vs. have to do, was the underpinning of my mother tireless efforts. You should do that which is helpful.
This "should do" drive didn't stop with family members. Mom's friends knew best not to mention a yet to be completed project within earshot, lest you were prepared to complete said project. You see, to Mom, unfinished tasks hung like an albatross around the neck of ones conscience. And mentioning a chore in front of my mom was no different then asking her out right for help. You concluded you should do the project now just do it...completed the task, free your consciences. And Mom was always there to lean on....to help bear the load...to motivate by doing.
Professionally, Mom was just as tireless. In Mom's mind her “clients” were not anonymous problems with case numbers but rather people with names. People who needed help...help unburdening their consciences so they could feel the freedom of less worry. Day after day, year after year, 24-7,365, Mom was on call. And when the government systems bogged down, Mom, just did it herself. It was the clients-the individuals who needed her time and help, not the agencies. Although she officially retired fifteen years ago she still remained active in many of her clients' lives.
This leads me to ask; what drives a person to tirelessly, inexhaustibly volunteer everyday for these labors ... to help strangers, family, friends...
to help her ridiculously stubborn son to gain new perspective ...
to help friends paint their house or move to a new home or organize a garage, basement or attic...
to help a returning soldier navigate government bureaucracy to receive the medical assistance he needed...
to help the grandson of a client from 30 years ago get into college...
to help a homeless man find an apartment, reestablish his identity and start rebuilding his life...
or year after year restock a freezer with homemade casseroles, cookies, and of course, spaghetti sauce...so her son and his wife wouldn't be burdened with making dinner for her grandchildren... Let me restate that..she replenished with homemade casseroles, cookies, and spaghetti sauce...replenished with love.
For her, Mom was doing what should be done, lessening our physical, mental and intangible loads.
Mom was; alturism, amity, charity, compassion, empathy, generosity, goodness, heart, kindness, mercy, sympathy..love...mom was humanity.
And in the grand notion of humanity, the pay it forward, geometric progression, the cascading-light notion of humanity, where one kind action leads to a dozen more equally kind actions...that cascading-light grew a little less bright two Sundays ago.
