A Eulogy for my mother
[email protected]
Hi folks...My mom's funeral was this morning, and I head home to Beth and
julian tomorrow morning. YAY!
I wrote and gave the eulogy for her this morning, and wanted to share it with
you all. This is in honor of my mother, Carole Baptista.
Some time ago I realized that I inherited most of the passions I have in my
life from my mother. Through her love of learning and books, love of travel,
her quiet respect for those she cared about, and her pragmatic strength, I
have learned to build a life I love. And my mother was unwavering in her
support of that.
You need to understand-my mom was NOT a teacher. Always brilliant - she
always knew the Jeopardy answers-she was told she could go to Teacher College
or not at all. Well, in high school the nuns at her school had put her in
charge for months of a class of younger students, and she'd hated it. So she
chose not at all.
But she loved learning and passed that along to us. When my sister and I
were kids, my parents led interesting lives, and we were always welcome to
join in. So we constantly had journalists, activists, local politicians, and
dozens of other interesting people around. Rather than being sent to our
rooms, we were invited to hang out, and our ideas were always listened to. We
had adventures. One night my parents had friends over and they spontaneously
decided to have breakfast in Montreal. We all packed into the car and went.
That respect for us has made a huge difference in my life, especially
impacting what kind of parent I wanted to be.
My mom used to say she liked us more as we got older and could have more
interesting conversations. We shared books, stories about things we did,
conversations about politics and the world, and stories of travel. My mom
always loved to travel, and early in her illness had plans to join my family
on a trip to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. Her illness unfortunately
interfered with her joining us, but she loved hearing about the trip when we
got back, and especially appreciated our lighting a candle for her at the
shrine in Fatima, Portugal.
Whatever we talked about, from the time I was very young, I knew I'd be
listened to completely and with respect.
She was a very pragmatic person, and the highest praise she bestowed on
anything was, "That's practical." When she said that in response to telling
her that qwe'd decided to homeschool my son, I laughed, because "practical"
was the last thing I thought it might be. But I knew she approved, especially
when the next thing she said was "It's too bad we didn't know about that for
you."
Even before that, my mother unconditionally supported me when I fell in
love with my partner, Beth, participating in our union service. She always
treated Beth like a much-loved daughter-in-law.
Over the years my mom has bonded with her grandchildren - over cartoons
with little Journey, Harry Potter with Sean, and Star Trek with my son
Julian, who was astounded at how much she knew about it. One of her concerns
was that no one would want her huge collection of owls. She was pleased when
Julian told her he would like to adopt them.
In the end, my mother was still helping me learn. A little over a month
ago, after my sister Cheryl called to tell me my mother's decision to enter
hospice, I decided I needed to go help take care of her. It meant taking a
leave of absence from work and being away from my family, without knowing how
long. I would just have to trust.
Being with my mom as she went through this was the most important thing
I've ever done. I haven't even begun to realize all I have learned.
I'd like to share this poem by John Fox, that I think reflects my how my
mother was in the world.
When someone deeply listens to you
It is like holding out a dented cup
You've had since childhood
And watching it fill up with
Cold, fresh water.
When it balances on top of the brim,
You are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin, you are loved.
When someone deeply listens to you,
The room where you stay
Starts a new life
And the place where you wrote
Your first poem
Begins to glow in your mind's eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered!
When someone deeply listens to you,
Your bare feet are on the earth
And a beloved land that seemed distant
Is now at home within you.
I'll miss my mother very much. Thank you.
julian tomorrow morning. YAY!
I wrote and gave the eulogy for her this morning, and wanted to share it with
you all. This is in honor of my mother, Carole Baptista.
Some time ago I realized that I inherited most of the passions I have in my
life from my mother. Through her love of learning and books, love of travel,
her quiet respect for those she cared about, and her pragmatic strength, I
have learned to build a life I love. And my mother was unwavering in her
support of that.
You need to understand-my mom was NOT a teacher. Always brilliant - she
always knew the Jeopardy answers-she was told she could go to Teacher College
or not at all. Well, in high school the nuns at her school had put her in
charge for months of a class of younger students, and she'd hated it. So she
chose not at all.
But she loved learning and passed that along to us. When my sister and I
were kids, my parents led interesting lives, and we were always welcome to
join in. So we constantly had journalists, activists, local politicians, and
dozens of other interesting people around. Rather than being sent to our
rooms, we were invited to hang out, and our ideas were always listened to. We
had adventures. One night my parents had friends over and they spontaneously
decided to have breakfast in Montreal. We all packed into the car and went.
That respect for us has made a huge difference in my life, especially
impacting what kind of parent I wanted to be.
My mom used to say she liked us more as we got older and could have more
interesting conversations. We shared books, stories about things we did,
conversations about politics and the world, and stories of travel. My mom
always loved to travel, and early in her illness had plans to join my family
on a trip to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. Her illness unfortunately
interfered with her joining us, but she loved hearing about the trip when we
got back, and especially appreciated our lighting a candle for her at the
shrine in Fatima, Portugal.
Whatever we talked about, from the time I was very young, I knew I'd be
listened to completely and with respect.
She was a very pragmatic person, and the highest praise she bestowed on
anything was, "That's practical." When she said that in response to telling
her that qwe'd decided to homeschool my son, I laughed, because "practical"
was the last thing I thought it might be. But I knew she approved, especially
when the next thing she said was "It's too bad we didn't know about that for
you."
Even before that, my mother unconditionally supported me when I fell in
love with my partner, Beth, participating in our union service. She always
treated Beth like a much-loved daughter-in-law.
Over the years my mom has bonded with her grandchildren - over cartoons
with little Journey, Harry Potter with Sean, and Star Trek with my son
Julian, who was astounded at how much she knew about it. One of her concerns
was that no one would want her huge collection of owls. She was pleased when
Julian told her he would like to adopt them.
In the end, my mother was still helping me learn. A little over a month
ago, after my sister Cheryl called to tell me my mother's decision to enter
hospice, I decided I needed to go help take care of her. It meant taking a
leave of absence from work and being away from my family, without knowing how
long. I would just have to trust.
Being with my mom as she went through this was the most important thing
I've ever done. I haven't even begun to realize all I have learned.
I'd like to share this poem by John Fox, that I think reflects my how my
mother was in the world.
When someone deeply listens to you
It is like holding out a dented cup
You've had since childhood
And watching it fill up with
Cold, fresh water.
When it balances on top of the brim,
You are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin, you are loved.
When someone deeply listens to you,
The room where you stay
Starts a new life
And the place where you wrote
Your first poem
Begins to glow in your mind's eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered!
When someone deeply listens to you,
Your bare feet are on the earth
And a beloved land that seemed distant
Is now at home within you.
I'll miss my mother very much. Thank you.
[email protected]
Very beautiful, Kathryn. Our condolences.
~Kelly
~Kelly
Fetteroll
on 11/15/02 4:43 PM, KathrynJB@... at KathrynJB@... wrote:
for sharing it.
Joyce
> I wrote and gave the eulogy for her this morning, and wanted to share it withKathryn, what sweet memories she's given to you. That was wonderful. Thanks
> you all. This is in honor of my mother, Carole Baptista.
for sharing it.
Joyce
Lisa Hardiman
Dear Kathryn: That is beautiful and thanks for sharing it. I lost my
mother 10 months ago in a sudden death. All I can do is continue her
great legacy as you are with your mother. Peace in your heart. Lisa
-----Original Message-----
From: KathrynJB@... [mailto:KathrynJB@...]
Sent: Friday, November 15, 2002 2:43 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: [AlwaysLearning] A Eulogy for my mother
Hi folks...My mom's funeral was this morning, and I head home to Beth
and
julian tomorrow morning. YAY!
I wrote and gave the eulogy for her this morning, and wanted to share it
with
you all. This is in honor of my mother, Carole Baptista.
Some time ago I realized that I inherited most of the passions I have in
my
life from my mother. Through her love of learning and books, love of
travel,
her quiet respect for those she cared about, and her pragmatic strength,
I
have learned to build a life I love. And my mother was unwavering in her
support of that.
You need to understand-my mom was NOT a teacher. Always brilliant -
she
always knew the Jeopardy answers-she was told she could go to Teacher
College
or not at all. Well, in high school the nuns at her school had put her
in
charge for months of a class of younger students, and she'd hated it. So
she
chose not at all.
But she loved learning and passed that along to us. When my sister
and I
were kids, my parents led interesting lives, and we were always welcome
to
join in. So we constantly had journalists, activists, local politicians,
and
dozens of other interesting people around. Rather than being sent to our
rooms, we were invited to hang out, and our ideas were always listened
to. We
had adventures. One night my parents had friends over and they
spontaneously
decided to have breakfast in Montreal. We all packed into the car and
went.
That respect for us has made a huge difference in my life,
especially
impacting what kind of parent I wanted to be.
My mom used to say she liked us more as we got older and could have
more
interesting conversations. We shared books, stories about things we did,
conversations about politics and the world, and stories of travel. My
mom
always loved to travel, and early in her illness had plans to join my
family
on a trip to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. Her illness unfortunately
interfered with her joining us, but she loved hearing about the trip
when we
got back, and especially appreciated our lighting a candle for her at
the
shrine in Fatima, Portugal.
Whatever we talked about, from the time I was very young, I knew I'd
be
listened to completely and with respect.
She was a very pragmatic person, and the highest praise she bestowed
on
anything was, "That's practical." When she said that in response to
telling
her that qwe'd decided to homeschool my son, I laughed, because
"practical"
was the last thing I thought it might be. But I knew she approved,
especially
when the next thing she said was "It's too bad we didn't know about that
for
you."
Even before that, my mother unconditionally supported me when I fell
in
love with my partner, Beth, participating in our union service. She
always
treated Beth like a much-loved daughter-in-law.
Over the years my mom has bonded with her grandchildren - over
cartoons
with little Journey, Harry Potter with Sean, and Star Trek with my son
Julian, who was astounded at how much she knew about it. One of her
concerns
was that no one would want her huge collection of owls. She was pleased
when
Julian told her he would like to adopt them.
In the end, my mother was still helping me learn. A little over a
month
ago, after my sister Cheryl called to tell me my mother's decision to
enter
hospice, I decided I needed to go help take care of her. It meant taking
a
leave of absence from work and being away from my family, without
knowing how
long. I would just have to trust.
Being with my mom as she went through this was the most important
thing
I've ever done. I haven't even begun to realize all I have learned.
I'd like to share this poem by John Fox, that I think reflects my
how my
mother was in the world.
When someone deeply listens to you
It is like holding out a dented cup
You've had since childhood
And watching it fill up with
Cold, fresh water.
When it balances on top of the brim,
You are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin, you are loved.
When someone deeply listens to you,
The room where you stay
Starts a new life
And the place where you wrote
Your first poem
Begins to glow in your mind's eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered!
When someone deeply listens to you,
Your bare feet are on the earth
And a beloved land that seemed distant
Is now at home within you.
I'll miss my mother very much. Thank you.
To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
[email protected]
Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo!
<http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/> Terms of Service.
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
mother 10 months ago in a sudden death. All I can do is continue her
great legacy as you are with your mother. Peace in your heart. Lisa
-----Original Message-----
From: KathrynJB@... [mailto:KathrynJB@...]
Sent: Friday, November 15, 2002 2:43 PM
To: [email protected]
Subject: [AlwaysLearning] A Eulogy for my mother
Hi folks...My mom's funeral was this morning, and I head home to Beth
and
julian tomorrow morning. YAY!
I wrote and gave the eulogy for her this morning, and wanted to share it
with
you all. This is in honor of my mother, Carole Baptista.
Some time ago I realized that I inherited most of the passions I have in
my
life from my mother. Through her love of learning and books, love of
travel,
her quiet respect for those she cared about, and her pragmatic strength,
I
have learned to build a life I love. And my mother was unwavering in her
support of that.
You need to understand-my mom was NOT a teacher. Always brilliant -
she
always knew the Jeopardy answers-she was told she could go to Teacher
College
or not at all. Well, in high school the nuns at her school had put her
in
charge for months of a class of younger students, and she'd hated it. So
she
chose not at all.
But she loved learning and passed that along to us. When my sister
and I
were kids, my parents led interesting lives, and we were always welcome
to
join in. So we constantly had journalists, activists, local politicians,
and
dozens of other interesting people around. Rather than being sent to our
rooms, we were invited to hang out, and our ideas were always listened
to. We
had adventures. One night my parents had friends over and they
spontaneously
decided to have breakfast in Montreal. We all packed into the car and
went.
That respect for us has made a huge difference in my life,
especially
impacting what kind of parent I wanted to be.
My mom used to say she liked us more as we got older and could have
more
interesting conversations. We shared books, stories about things we did,
conversations about politics and the world, and stories of travel. My
mom
always loved to travel, and early in her illness had plans to join my
family
on a trip to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. Her illness unfortunately
interfered with her joining us, but she loved hearing about the trip
when we
got back, and especially appreciated our lighting a candle for her at
the
shrine in Fatima, Portugal.
Whatever we talked about, from the time I was very young, I knew I'd
be
listened to completely and with respect.
She was a very pragmatic person, and the highest praise she bestowed
on
anything was, "That's practical." When she said that in response to
telling
her that qwe'd decided to homeschool my son, I laughed, because
"practical"
was the last thing I thought it might be. But I knew she approved,
especially
when the next thing she said was "It's too bad we didn't know about that
for
you."
Even before that, my mother unconditionally supported me when I fell
in
love with my partner, Beth, participating in our union service. She
always
treated Beth like a much-loved daughter-in-law.
Over the years my mom has bonded with her grandchildren - over
cartoons
with little Journey, Harry Potter with Sean, and Star Trek with my son
Julian, who was astounded at how much she knew about it. One of her
concerns
was that no one would want her huge collection of owls. She was pleased
when
Julian told her he would like to adopt them.
In the end, my mother was still helping me learn. A little over a
month
ago, after my sister Cheryl called to tell me my mother's decision to
enter
hospice, I decided I needed to go help take care of her. It meant taking
a
leave of absence from work and being away from my family, without
knowing how
long. I would just have to trust.
Being with my mom as she went through this was the most important
thing
I've ever done. I haven't even begun to realize all I have learned.
I'd like to share this poem by John Fox, that I think reflects my
how my
mother was in the world.
When someone deeply listens to you
It is like holding out a dented cup
You've had since childhood
And watching it fill up with
Cold, fresh water.
When it balances on top of the brim,
You are understood.
When it overflows and touches your skin, you are loved.
When someone deeply listens to you,
The room where you stay
Starts a new life
And the place where you wrote
Your first poem
Begins to glow in your mind's eye.
It is as if gold has been discovered!
When someone deeply listens to you,
Your bare feet are on the earth
And a beloved land that seemed distant
Is now at home within you.
I'll miss my mother very much. Thank you.
To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
[email protected]
Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to the Yahoo!
<http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/> Terms of Service.
[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]
Meghan Anderson
This is so beautiful and touching. What wonderful feelings and
memories to have of your mother :-)
Meghan
memories to have of your mother :-)
Meghan
--- In AlwaysLearning@y..., KathrynJB@a... wrote:
> Hi folks...My mom's funeral was this morning, and I head home
to Beth and
> julian tomorrow morning. YAY!
>
> I wrote and gave the eulogy for her this morning, and wanted to
share it with
> you all. This is in honor of my mother, Carole Baptista.
>
> Some time ago I realized that I inherited most of the passions I
have in my
> life from my mother. Through her love of learning and books,
love of travel,
> her quiet respect for those she cared about, and her pragmatic
strength, I
> have learned to build a life I love. And my mother was
unwavering in her
> support of that.
> You need to understand-my mom was NOT a teacher.
Always brilliant - she
> always knew the Jeopardy answers-she was told she could go
to Teacher College
> or not at all. Well, in high school the nuns at her school had put
her in
> charge for months of a class of younger students, and she'd
hated it. So she
> chose not at all.
> But she loved learning and passed that along to us. When
my sister and I
> were kids, my parents led interesting lives, and we were
always welcome to
> join in. So we constantly had journalists, activists, local
politicians, and
> dozens of other interesting people around. Rather than being
sent to our
> rooms, we were invited to hang out, and our ideas were always
listened to. We
> had adventures. One night my parents had friends over and
they spontaneously
> decided to have breakfast in Montreal. We all packed into the
car and went.
> That respect for us has made a huge difference in my life,
especially
> impacting what kind of parent I wanted to be.
> My mom used to say she liked us more as we got older and
could have more
> interesting conversations. We shared books, stories about
things we did,
> conversations about politics and the world, and stories of
travel. My mom
> always loved to travel, and early in her illness had plans to join
my family
> on a trip to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. Her illness
unfortunately
> interfered with her joining us, but she loved hearing about the
trip when we
> got back, and especially appreciated our lighting a candle for
her at the
> shrine in Fatima, Portugal.
> Whatever we talked about, from the time I was very young, I
knew I'd be
> listened to completely and with respect.
> She was a very pragmatic person, and the highest praise
she bestowed on
> anything was, "That's practical." When she said that in
response to telling
> her that qwe'd decided to homeschool my son, I laughed,
because "practical"
> was the last thing I thought it might be. But I knew she
approved, especially
> when the next thing she said was "It's too bad we didn't know
about that for
> you."
> Even before that, my mother unconditionally supported me
when I fell in
> love with my partner, Beth, participating in our union service.
She always
> treated Beth like a much-loved daughter-in-law.
> Over the years my mom has bonded with her grandchildren -
over cartoons
> with little Journey, Harry Potter with Sean, and Star Trek with my
son
> Julian, who was astounded at how much she knew about it.
One of her concerns
> was that no one would want her huge collection of owls. She
was pleased when
> Julian told her he would like to adopt them.
> In the end, my mother was still helping me learn. A little over
a month
> ago, after my sister Cheryl called to tell me my mother's
decision to enter
> hospice, I decided I needed to go help take care of her. It
meant taking a
> leave of absence from work and being away from my family,
without knowing how
> long. I would just have to trust.
> Being with my mom as she went through this was the most
important thing
> I've ever done. I haven't even begun to realize all I have learned.
> I'd like to share this poem by John Fox, that I think reflects my
how my
> mother was in the world.
>
> When someone deeply listens to you
> It is like holding out a dented cup
> You've had since childhood
> And watching it fill up with
> Cold, fresh water.
> When it balances on top of the brim,
> You are understood.
> When it overflows and touches your skin, you are loved.
> When someone deeply listens to you,
> The room where you stay
> Starts a new life
> And the place where you wrote
> Your first poem
> Begins to glow in your mind's eye.
> It is as if gold has been discovered!
> When someone deeply listens to you,
> Your bare feet are on the earth
> And a beloved land that seemed distant
> Is now at home within you.
>
> I'll miss my mother very much. Thank you.