My mother’s eulogy…

26 Jan
In loving memory... Feb 2013, La Rochelle winery

In Loving Memory… La Rochelle – Feb 2013

Mom died on December 27th. The next two weeks would be a flurry of activity for my siblings and me. My brother offered that he and Rod would take my mother’s beloved pets, Cooper and Dolly, which we shared with my mother when she may have still been lucid and for which I will always be thankful.

My sister will list Mom’s house as we will need to sell it.

And I will deal with all the finances.

My sister inherited the part of Mom’s creatively arty side so we quickly agreed that she’d take care of the memorial tribute video and reception, I’d sing Grace Potter’s “Stars” at the service, and each of us would give a eulogy.

I wrote mine through a blaze of tears. Here it is…


I would have said that she was a dirty clothes whore, but maybe that’s just me.

I usually have witty things to say. Sometimes snarky, sometimes mocking, but rarely have I been at such a loss for words. Until I sat down to write something about my Mom.

I could regale you with her antics and shenanigans with me and my friends, many of whom are here today and very likely reliving their own greatest hits with Linda. I could share what a loving, vivacious, bodacious and giving woman she was. She lived life out loud, from her personality to her clothes and jewelry. Every single one of you already knows these things. Instead, I’m going to share how I feel about this loss.

I’m not ready to no longer have her in my life. I want to see her come in that door right now. I want to hear her voice, feel her touch. But she cannot walk through that door. She’ll never walk through that door.

She is gone. I don’t want to believe it. I’m not ready. I want more time. I need more time.

She is gone. I’ll never see her throw her head back and laugh with abandon. Or hear her chuckle over a good dirty joke.

I am mad as hell that I can no longer call her and hear her voice. Hold her hand as we walk into our favorite restaurants. Go wine tasting and hear her ask for “just a squidge more”. Soon, I won’t be able to smell her on her scarfs and shirts.

She is gone. I don’t want to accept it. It’s not fair. It’s wrong.

She is gone. She’ll never be able to kiss me or wipe my tears.

I’ll never be able to tell her again how much I love her. How proud I am to be her daughter and that I will always be thankful for her. For things that I got from her: her laughter, her sarcasm, her wit, her joie de vivre, her love of adventure, her unique identity of style, her flamboyant makeup, and for having the same size shoe so I could learn early on how to wear stilettos.

I had a most precious experience the night she died. I felt her. I felt this presence wrap around me and fill me with a serenity like no other. I have tried to describe what I saw and felt and I’ve found that there are simply no words to do this justice.

I am grateful and honored to have had her in my life.

She is gone. I am simply not ready to lose her in this world. HER – I simply feel lost without her.

I will always miss her. And I will carry my love for her with me always.


Thank you dear readers for sharing this journey with me. It hasn’t been an easy road to travel, putting e-pen to e-paper and sharing the rawness, but it has been cathartic. If these posts help even one person prepare for the death of a loved one, it was worth it.

Be kind to each other, and especially, yourselves.


2 Responses to “My mother’s eulogy…”

  1. Kindred_Hearts January 26, 2014 at 9:26 pm #

    Your words are a lasting tribute to your mom. I’m too emotional to say more except you have you have shown y’all’s love well.

    • Lisa January 27, 2014 at 8:37 am #

      Thank you Kindred – I appreciate that 🙂

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