Today as I took communion, I thought of you afterwards. We always shared the communion wafer and broke it in half. I had a whole one this time … I treasure the memories like this.

My mom loved Madonna. She would pretend to be Madonna and perform in the living room. One day she decided to get up on the glass coffee table to perform “Like a Virgin.” The glass shattered and she went through it! We never let her live that down, and that song was an inside joke for many years!

Any time it was on, you had to watch it. It was your favorite. You would tell me to sit and watch it with you. As a teenager I never did. I had no interest. Now, I’d give anything to sit next to you watching it. You were taken from me. Stolen. Gone with the wind.

During my last year of grad school my dad was working nights and we barely saw each other during the week. We kept a notebook where we wrote each other a daily note, whether it was encouraging, loving, a quick doodle or a funny memory.

One of my favorites from him was, “Happy Friday! I love you so much. We are blessed to have a daughter like you in our lives. I cleaned snow off your car. Please drive slow.”
Love always, Tata

Mom taught us many lessons. Most importantly is to have faith, hope, and love.

She was the most complicated woman we ever met. Not that we needed a reminder, but she often said “There’s not another one like me.”

She was right. There wasn’t and never will be. Mom was dealt a tough hand in life and was forced to be both our mother and father. She raised all 6 of us by herself.

God knows we were tough to raise and we pushed her well beyond her breaking point.
But she never gave up on us. She knew us inside and out. She knew our secrets, and never once broke our trust.

She poured her love into us. She knew every one of our buttons and she pushed every damn one of them. She fought the good fight, finished the race, and kept the faith.

Mom was a devout Catholic and the most faithful person we knew. When we were kids, she made sure we were at mass every Sunday.

With everything, she had her unique way of doing things. She arrived late but in time for the collection plate, and sat in the back of the church.

This way she could receive communion, listen just a bit longer, then beat the priest out the door. If she missed confession, she did not take communion. Especially if she thought about killing someone that week.

Mom, you were a good and faithful servant.