My Mom’s Eulogy

Delivered July 31, 2023

In high school I hosted a new year’s party in our basement. My mom insisted she and dad stay home and supervise. They’d promise to stay upstairs. So uncool, right? The one rule was: no alcohol. So my first question was: how are we going to sneak in all the alcohol? I mean, I was never going to get caught. Right, I didn’t get in trouble.

But when there’s no bathroom in the basement and your parents are upstairs, it was inevitable… As my mom would say… busted. A few days later, she delivered the best punishment of her life. Maybe in the history of the world. For the entire second semester of my senior year…she removed the door to my room.

She taught me a lesson. And my mom has a philosophy when it comes to teaching. Come to think about it, probably marriage and parenting too.

Short term hate, long term love.

It works like this. 
At first, it’s UGH: 
Ugh I hate this. I don’t want this. This is so hard. 
And with time, you come around to appreciate it.

I HATED not having a door. It was embarrassing and frustrating. I learned about breaking trust. About earning it back. She taught me about taking responsibility and facing consequences. But, even though I thought of it as the worst at the time, I now describe it as the best punishment in the world for that reason. Her teachings have stuck.

Short term hate. Long term…lessons.

 If you knew her, you knew.

If you were her student, she made you try harder than you ever had before. (frustrated) UGH MS KAHANA! Setting and reaching goals that you didn’t know were possible before you had someone like my mom to support you.

If you were her colleague, she’d ask you to join the board of her non-profit, go to the union meetings, or make you work late night for 3 weeks… just to help one kid get into college or find financial aid.

If you were her friend or neighbor, she’d make you sign up for improv classes in your 50s, crash a wedding, or invite you to a party where you’d have to dress up or sing, or talk about hard topics like death. (annoyed) UGH, EILEEN! She’d ask you to not carpool here. Or worse, she’d make you do something like host her shiva (thank you very much Melissa and Kenny).

If you were her sister or cousin or niece, she’d drag you to a Cubs game on a school night…in Milwaukee. Or invite you on a cruise to Alaska or some farkacta adventure and you’d think “Ugh” but you know you’d have to say yes.

Short term hate. Long term…memories.

If you were her husband she’d drive you crazy with second guessing the tiles and wall color that she’d already agonized over for 5 months. Or drag you on a 14 hour road trip and not let you use the bathroom once because of the pandemic… so you could see your grandchildren for 2 days. She’d hock you to china about getting a bench in her honor at Sunset Park, and then when you finally did, you’d make every effort to take her to see it in her last 2 weeks of her life… and then she’d still give you a hard time for taking 3 years to get it made.

And if you were her kids, oof don’t envy me. She’d make us be home for family dinner every friday night. No if’s OR and’s. (Keep your “but” she has her own.) She’d make us edit papers until we were so sick of writing. Stay up late practicing speeches until we never used the word “um” again. She’d grill us about what our career and life plans were (basically until her last breath, amirite, Jordan?). She’d make you and your fiancee sleep in separate beds when you came to visit. Because: “not in her house.” 
(embarrassed) Ugh mom. you’re so embarrassing. 
Then she’d call your wedding band behind your back, freak you out, only to give the most theatrical and meaningful speech.

Short term hate. Long term… reward

And oh was her life rewarding...

She chose to be the first in the family to go to college. Without the support of her parents, she figured out the whole ACT and application process by herself. She put herself through college working at The Jewel. Bought her own first car. And first condo.

She continued to work at the Jewel while she taught, spending her extra money on making memories and meaning.
Solo trips to Mardi Gras and summer trips to Acapulco with Lillo.

My mom taught with Chicago Public schools for 34 years. Teaching literally thousands of students to believe in themselves, and that life was like a hockey game: Those who get the most goals, wins. A lesson that she herself lived.

She went back to school and got her masters degree at 50.

When she left CPS in 2010, she didn’t make it easy on herself. No, of course not. She was part of a never-done-before cohort of mentors to help young teachers in struggling schools. She changed their lives and the students they worked with. And in turn, it changed her.

After she finally retired– well, you’re smart enough to get the pattern here. (It’s dyed blonde, not dumb blonde, right?) She kept going– she took improv comedy classes at Second City. THEN turned it into a business. Bringing her natural storytelling skills and the lessons she learned in improv to schools, veterans, and seniors. She literally had to figure out how start a non-profit. When she was forced to close it in 2020, the goodbye ceremony we held had everyone in tears for the impact it had had on them, and the loss they felt at not being able to continue to work with the inspiring, motivated, and committed leader that my mom was.

She started therapy at 65.

And piano lessons at 68!

And that’s just her career… 

 As a parent, she made sure there was always enrichment for both Jordan and me. When I was 5, I started piano lessons. And she signed me up for science classes for kids at Northwestern. Jordan took karate and did boy scouts and drum lessons. We both took private art classes for years that sparked our love of creativity and, probably, our careers.

Our family never went on vacation. That is to say, we never went away for a week to sit on a beach somewhere. We traveled to Disneyland where, we have to be up at 630 (exhausted) UGH,and go go go until the second we pass out at night. We spent weeks in Israel where once, we were driving up the Mediterranean coast in Tel Aviv and she ordered my dad to pull over. She said “Let’s jump in”. (horrified) UGHHHH. What? We don’t have swim suits. OR towels. “How many times will we have the chance to swim in the Mediterranean?” And so we did… we swam in our clothes, soaking up the sea and every adventure that life with my mom had to offer.

And it started with an UGH. But here I am, 25 years later, talking about one of the most beloved experiences of my entire life.

Short term hate, long term love.

And it’s so emblematic of my mom. This saying. Because what it does is teach you something. It forces you to change your mind…

In the last 5 years, she’s changed my mind about what it’s like to be a parent. I guess I always thought it was just fun, reward, play. It’s just that she made it look so easy. She was able to have such a meaningful experience of personal growth in her own career AND be such an incredible mom. She was able to maintain an enviable marriage for 42 years. 

Explore culture in Chicago and travel the world. AND be such an incredible mom. Did I say that already? Well it’s worth repeating. The most fun, generous, smart, and devoted mom. And she happened to be mine. How lucky am I?

A mom who believed and often reminded me–and as my high school friends would later make fun of me for–that discipline IS love. And not having a door is a pretty damn good reminder about how much she loved me.

All of us.

As I look around the room, I know that she loved all of you too. But I’m struck by the OTHER thing that all of us, every single one of us has in common… [pause] 
no one wants to be here. Not one of us wanted this to happen. 4 weeks ago, not one of us thought we’d be here right now. UGGHHHHH!

But here we are.

She’s doing it again, it’s so typical of her. To bring all her favorite people together in one place, all of this fun potential, good energy, and a group of us that love her and each other… to gather all these people together… to do something… really hard. Something we don’t want to do.

We don’t want to say goodbye. We don’t want to face the rest of our life without her. We hate that she’s reminded us how little time we have, how fragile and quick something we thought was forever, can slip through our fingers and then be gone. 

(sad) UGH!

I hate knowing that she won’t be here. To help. To listen. To read books to Golda and Abe. To stay up late with them to practice their speeches or take them swimming in their clothes. I hate that I have to do this without her. I hate that I have to write this eulogy. I hate that we’re all here right now. (exastperated) UGH!

[pause]

But if she’s taught me anything, it’s that this hate… this “UGH” will change. Maybe not right away… But some day soon, I’ll look back at today with all of you. At this week with my family. At the last month in the hospital and her final days at home, holding her hand and listening… I’ll reflect with gratitude. With new wisdom. And, of course, love.

In the hospital, we played a game. Ask me anything. A new tradition to get closer to each other in her final days. We shared stories and memories through tears, reflected honestly on our time together, got one-on-one time to express our feelings and words of comfort for and from her. We’re so lucky to have had that time. But It. Was so. Hard.

She’s taught us all to do hard things because the easy choice and the right choice are rarely the same. Hard things make us stronger.

As a community, as a family, as individuals.

And every time I think “ugh I hate this. I don’t want to do this. This is so hard.” my mom will be right there, reminding me…

Short term hate, long term love.

Mom, I speak for everyone when I say:
We all hate being here.
But we will love you forever.