a Christmas Letter to my Mother 2018

Dearest Mother

     It's Christmas Eve. I'm sitting here in your prayer chair, thinking of you,  and missing you so very much.  I was just two months old when we celebrated our first Christmas together, as we did every Christmas after . Now I'm 68 yrs. old celebrating my first Christmas without you.
     I have to say, Mama it's a little harder for me this year finding the peace and solace of Silent Night, Holy Night without you being here, and am unable to listen to Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, but I'm remembering your delight in the  Christmas season, how you enjoyed everything about it ! The shopping, the crowds, the caroling, the gift wrapping, the decorating; you'd always say we're decorating, getting the house ready for the birth of Jesus.  
     I'm thinking of your excitement in picking out  just the right present, your delight in giving , and welcoming family, friends and acquaintances into our home, making each one feel special and loved. Your joy was contagious, Mom, and lifted our spirit. 
     I'm thinking of Tiny Tears, and Betsy Wetsy, Butler's Lives of the Saints,  a Bubble Head  Barbie doll; and a collection of Este Lauder Solids. All gifts from you, Mom. Gifts I still have. Did I ever tell you, Mom how very much I appreciated your working so hard to provide for my brother and me, to make our Christmas morning wishes come true ? Did I ever tell you what it meant to have a mother like you to share Christmas with, a mother who loved us so much, and we loved in return.
     I'm thinking of you standing at the stove making your famous  Christmas fudge. It became a staple for us at Christmas time. Gary swore it was the best fudge he ever tasted, and always thought you should market it. I'm thinking of Christmas eve dinner, and the fun and laughter; you reading to us a favorite poem and prayer. And going to  Christmas Mass. 
      Right now I'm looking at the gold leaf Nativity, the one you had since early days of my youth,  and treasured. There's something comforting to see that same Nativity still displayed in our home, especially this year,  giving me pause to reflect, and remember  about the Christ child, His Mother Mary, and Joseph.
      I'm thinking of one of your favorite Christmas songs,  The Little Drummer Boy, and how you would say you identified with the little drummer boy, thinking you had no gift to bring , that's fit to give to our king. But I say you brought Him so many gifts,
Mom, not just Christmas, but every day by the way you lived your life, and loved others. I'm envisioning  you now in the Heavenly realm  singing for Him  with your sweet soprano voice,  Gloria in excelsis dio. And your son, Walt standing near. 

Merry Christmas, Mother. I love you.
Your daughter, 

Kathleen Rosalie


     

WORDS OF REMEMBRANCE (Eulogy) Lenora Cooney

My Mother, Lenora Cooney. Words of Remembrance.
 November 7, 2018 by Kathy Cooney Dobbs

   When my brother, Walt passed away in 2010 and I stood to give his eulogy my eyes filled with tears & I couldn’t seem to speak - it was only when I heard my Mother call out , ‘Kathy, take a deep breath’ - I was able to collect myself and carry on.
That’s how it’s always been for me, my Mother has been the wind beneath my wings.
Right now , I’m missing the sound of my Mother’s voice, seeing her face, feeling her loving embrace more than words can say.
   When I had to go into Mom’s room to tell her what the doctor said, “that there were no good options” , my head dropped to her lap, my tears streaming ; Mama reached out, patted the back of my head , & gently said don’t worry, honey; ‘it’ll be okay. That  was my Mother! - comforting, consoling even then. And her last words so sweetly whispered on October 25 about her grandson, ‘Gavin said such beautiful things to me ‘
   As one friend wrote, your Mother had love in her voice, love in her heart, she had a gift to make whoever she was talking to feel special. And indeed she did . No matter where Mom & I went- to the market, to the bank , to the thrift store the clerk or teller would always come from behind their desk or counter to visit with Mom, to give her a hug ; many times another customer would be drawn to Mom to engage her in conversation – a lonely woman , or man, or disabled child - Mother would always take the time to listen, & give an encouraging word, and tell them she would pray for the them.
   Mom was caring and kind , gracious, giving , forgiving; and she
 loved to laugh- in fact, Mama thought it was our responsibility to be joyful, that our Lord wanted us to laugh and not take everything so seriously. One of her favorite books in recent months was 
Laughter Was Created for Days Like This- Prayers, Chuckles and Reminders That God Really Has Things Under Control.
  Mom made everything fun, like when I was 8 yrs old , and Mom and I dancing the Polka all around the front room of our small duplex, the record would end and I’d say, ‘Mama, let’s polka again’, and round and round we’d go laughing out loud, or sitting on the floor cutting out paper dolls. Both Mother & I liked dolls, and in our later years would find much pleasure collecting vintage dolls together. Actually, Mom and I simply enjoyed each other’s company and enjoyed doing so many things together.
   And over 50 years ago while I was still in high school, it was great because so many of my friends, and Walt’s friends , too liked hanging out at our house, some of those friends here today, because they liked being around my Mother , talking with her because she was such a good listener. Mom once said she never got to watch the end of any TV program because Kathy & her friends would come rushing through the front door 10 minutes before the show was over to tell her about whatever we were doing . Never once did Mom say, not now girls , or wait until the show is over, or I’m busy - she always made us feel whatever we had to share was of prime importance, and would give us her full attention .
We were a small family, my mother, brother and I, and Mom thought  it would be more festive for Walt and me to have others join us on Christmas Eve , so she began inviting friends, relatives, and co-workers to our house for one of her fabulous Turkey buffets, exchange gifts and have a merry ol' time.  Mom wouldn't get off work until noon on Christmas eve; I look back now and am amazed at how she got everything done so perfectly.   I recall one year everyone wore House on the Prairie type clothing , and the only light in the house came from oil lamps. It was a sweet time. Mom made Christmas Eve at our house magical, and memorable, like she did everything . For several years Christmas Eve at our house became a favorite happening for Mom , my brother and me, and for many a friend.
   From the time Walt and I were very young , Mother read poetry to us, poems about Wyken, Blyken and Nod sailing off in a wooden shoe, The Gingham Dog and Calico Cat, and Little Boy Blue - the sound of Mother's voice reading poetry every night was so calm and peaceful, her presence so  reassuring it often lulled us to sleep. Because of Mother influence, and love of poetry, Walt and I grew up liking poetry, too. Throughout all our years Mom continued to read poetry to us, sometimes over the phone; or often she'd say, 'Kathy, sit down, honey, I want to read this to you. It won't take long', including one from Ted Malone's Scrapbook  Mom had marked  as the last poem she ever got to read to my brother and me when we were all together in 2009 – one that touched Mom’s heart about a young Mother setting out on the path of life, guiding her children along the way –
And the Mother said: Look up. Lift your eyes to the light. And the children looked up and saw above the clouds an Everlasting Glory, and it guided them and brought them beyond the darkness. And that night the Mother said, This is the best day of all, for I have shown my children God.
   Mother always looked up , pointing toward our Father in Heaven, his beloved son, Jesus and the Holy Spirit – Mom had a deep abiding faith she gave witness to every day by the way she lived her life, through joy or heartache. Mom trusted the Lord would provide.
   Mom has made her home in Clarkston for the past twenty five years , she would often say with endearment, Clarkston reminded her of Council Bluffs, where she was raised. Mother has been blessed with many close and cherished friends here; dear friends she loved very much, and shared so many wonderful and happy times with. Special times involving the Doll Club, Festival of Trees, Moose Races, Birthdays with the B.’s; Going to the Tin Can grocery store; and so many gatherings and get to-gethers, sometimes in her own beautiful backyard. Mom so enjoyed her backyard, watching the birds, and her solar lights at night. We called it Mom’s ‘Secret Garden’.
    Whenever  Mom looked back on the fullness of her her life , she would always say she had a wonderful life, a blessed life; it was a good time! And I say to Mom, being your daughter, it was the BEST time ! It was a party just being  near you!

I love you , Mama more than words can say.
Heart to heart. Forever 
and always.
                                            

                                         

The Cruelness of Death

Oh, death! How cruel you are. Taking from us the ones we love.
The sound of their voice, the touch of their hand, the smell of them.
My mothers laugh, her words of wisdom, her good counsel and
good cheer.
Oh, death ! How cruel you are robbing me of the one
who gave me life and brought me into the world. My first friend,
my best friend, who loved me unconditionally, without reserve,
with her whole being. Who showed me God's grace by the
way she lived, and treated others.
Oh, death ! How cruel you are to break  my heart and cripple
my spirit leaving me without my confident, the one who
brought calm, and comfort to my every day; and so much
joy to friends and family.
Oh, death ! But wait. You're not the end. You can't win.
Because of Christ and His cross and resurrection, His
promise of eternal life , assuring us we'll see our
loved ones again

i love you, Mama

Now He Laughs with Angels

We haven't remembered him less,

in fact, we never forget him; we have just learned 

to accept he is no longer here, not near

to hear his voice, see his smile, to give him a hug.

But  always with us 

in our thoughts, and memories held dear

If we ever argued i don't recall; maybe once or twice 

in our teenage years, whether it was

Peter, Paul & Mary  or Led Zeppelin on the stereo.

My brother was a sweet soul, not prone to bad temperament

or disagreement. He loved and lived life fully, and

liked to laugh. Walt passed away eight years

ago today. It was Memorial Day that year.

For us , his family and friends who love and

miss Walt, May 30 will always be our Memorial Day