{Ed's note: I had one day's notice during which to come up with this, or anything like it... Neither my father, nor any cousin; not even the funeral director himself called me to tell me I was responsible for this element of the funeral Mass... The only crack within the sequence of events -- wake, wake, ceremony, procession, Mass, further procession, and finally burial -- during which to write it came at midnight, after the wake, and after having had held myself up over pizza and Martinis with certain loving friends and family.}
Good morning, everyone. I stand here before you having to undertake one of the most difficult writing assignments I’ve ever had to complete. I must deliver to you a eulogy. A eulogy not for a business associate, nor a dear friend, nor a cousin, nor or sibling, nor even a spouse – but for a mother. My mother. I stand here before you, this morning, having undertaken this, the most difficult writing assignment I have ever had to complete: writing a eulogy for my very own mother.
I won’t make it long. I won’t provide you with chronology. I believe the obituary did an excellent job at that. If you’re interested in learning more about the course of events that comprised my mother’s life, then I refer you to that. The obituary. This is not an obituary.
This, as a eulogy, must not summarize the course of events that comprised my mother’s life. Rather, it must capture the essence of that life. As soon as I recognized this differentiation – this difference between an obituary and a eulogy – I felt as sense of liberation. For upon first hearing the news of my mother’s wish that I write her eulogy, like most people, I panicked. Truth be known, I didn’t stop panicking until I looked up the definition of eulogy, and then compared it to the definition of obituary. Once I’d learned what distinguished the former from the latter, I overcame my panic, and I was ready to proceed.
So if the purpose of a eulogy is to capture essence, I asked myself, then what is essence? That answer came to me without the help of any dictionary. For essence is word that, as precise as any definition might attempt to make it, relies upon intuition in order to completely understand. Essence is less than logical. Essence comes not from the mind, but from the earth itself, and before that – from the spirit.
In having known and interacted with many of you here today, and indeed with many who might not be able to be here today, I have listened to and observed many words, thoughts, notions and feelings that would compete to encapsulate my mother’s essence. She was intelligent, beautiful, kind and generous to others, a spitfire, a gadfly, and the life of the party. She had wit, she had charm, but she was nobody’s fool. She could whip up the best Irish stew you’d ever tasted. She could organize a fantastic event, and dance with you until dawn, but still be there to hold your hand if you were having a bad day.
What, I’ve asked myself, encapsulates all theses terms? These thoughts? These notions? These notions that so many of you have had and expressed about my mother. Well, I’ll tell you what encapsulated my mother’s spirit. I’ll tell you what summarizes her essence: will. If there is one word, one notion, one concept that I had to use in order to summarize my mother’s essence – if I only had one word with which to do it – it would be that. Will.
My mother had a will of iron. A will of steel. A will of the strongest alloy that NASA has yet to develop. She had a will and determination that would have put the likes of such Hollywood divas as Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, or even today’s diva, Madonna, to shame. Indeed, she could have held her own at a tea party consisting of only those women. Maggy Thatcher and Hilary Clinton wouldn’t even have been invited.
So if you’re ever in a situation, be it social or merely within your own thoughts… When you have to find one word to encapsulate the sprit that was Patricia Ann Theresa Hurley O’Neill, let me suggest that word: will. It was her will that helped her become a Supervising RN. It was her will that aided her, alongside her loving husband of 50 years, Martin, in transforming the house at 124 Riverview Ave from a quaint structure with “good bones” into a home that was consistently referred to as “lovely” by all of its visitors. And, in more recent years, it was her sheer will that enabled her to not only endure, but temporarily remit, the cancer that would eventually claim her body.
I guess the Lord and the spirits in the great beyond now need that will more than we do. I suppose it’s now our time to let go of the great spirit that was Pat O’Neill. But rest assured, her will lives on. Not only in me, her only child, her only son – but by its very own volition. A force like that never dies. As the physicists tell us, energy can neither be created nor destroyed – it simply changes form.
If you loved her, then I love you. Thank you.
Good morning, everyone. I stand here before you having to undertake one of the most difficult writing assignments I’ve ever had to complete. I must deliver to you a eulogy. A eulogy not for a business associate, nor a dear friend, nor a cousin, nor or sibling, nor even a spouse – but for a mother. My mother. I stand here before you, this morning, having undertaken this, the most difficult writing assignment I have ever had to complete: writing a eulogy for my very own mother.
I won’t make it long. I won’t provide you with chronology. I believe the obituary did an excellent job at that. If you’re interested in learning more about the course of events that comprised my mother’s life, then I refer you to that. The obituary. This is not an obituary.
This, as a eulogy, must not summarize the course of events that comprised my mother’s life. Rather, it must capture the essence of that life. As soon as I recognized this differentiation – this difference between an obituary and a eulogy – I felt as sense of liberation. For upon first hearing the news of my mother’s wish that I write her eulogy, like most people, I panicked. Truth be known, I didn’t stop panicking until I looked up the definition of eulogy, and then compared it to the definition of obituary. Once I’d learned what distinguished the former from the latter, I overcame my panic, and I was ready to proceed.
So if the purpose of a eulogy is to capture essence, I asked myself, then what is essence? That answer came to me without the help of any dictionary. For essence is word that, as precise as any definition might attempt to make it, relies upon intuition in order to completely understand. Essence is less than logical. Essence comes not from the mind, but from the earth itself, and before that – from the spirit.
In having known and interacted with many of you here today, and indeed with many who might not be able to be here today, I have listened to and observed many words, thoughts, notions and feelings that would compete to encapsulate my mother’s essence. She was intelligent, beautiful, kind and generous to others, a spitfire, a gadfly, and the life of the party. She had wit, she had charm, but she was nobody’s fool. She could whip up the best Irish stew you’d ever tasted. She could organize a fantastic event, and dance with you until dawn, but still be there to hold your hand if you were having a bad day.
What, I’ve asked myself, encapsulates all theses terms? These thoughts? These notions? These notions that so many of you have had and expressed about my mother. Well, I’ll tell you what encapsulated my mother’s spirit. I’ll tell you what summarizes her essence: will. If there is one word, one notion, one concept that I had to use in order to summarize my mother’s essence – if I only had one word with which to do it – it would be that. Will.
My mother had a will of iron. A will of steel. A will of the strongest alloy that NASA has yet to develop. She had a will and determination that would have put the likes of such Hollywood divas as Bette Davis and Joan Crawford, or even today’s diva, Madonna, to shame. Indeed, she could have held her own at a tea party consisting of only those women. Maggy Thatcher and Hilary Clinton wouldn’t even have been invited.
So if you’re ever in a situation, be it social or merely within your own thoughts… When you have to find one word to encapsulate the sprit that was Patricia Ann Theresa Hurley O’Neill, let me suggest that word: will. It was her will that helped her become a Supervising RN. It was her will that aided her, alongside her loving husband of 50 years, Martin, in transforming the house at 124 Riverview Ave from a quaint structure with “good bones” into a home that was consistently referred to as “lovely” by all of its visitors. And, in more recent years, it was her sheer will that enabled her to not only endure, but temporarily remit, the cancer that would eventually claim her body.
I guess the Lord and the spirits in the great beyond now need that will more than we do. I suppose it’s now our time to let go of the great spirit that was Pat O’Neill. But rest assured, her will lives on. Not only in me, her only child, her only son – but by its very own volition. A force like that never dies. As the physicists tell us, energy can neither be created nor destroyed – it simply changes form.
If you loved her, then I love you. Thank you.
10.05.07
12:12am
G. ONeill
5 comments:
Thanks for sharing these thoughts, Greg. You're in our hearts these days of remembering, hurting and healing. Keith and Kevin
Yo, motherfucker. You be one honest sunnofabitch. How did that happen? Is it over, or just starting? We got yo back no matter what. Holla. You know who. Thanks to your English lessons. How we do?
grace under fire, i think i've heard it called
how did u it?
G,
I read this a couple times every year. I just re-read this today.
It is a beautiful piece of writing - as simple/single-layered or complex/multi-dimensional as the reader wants it to be - whether we heard it the day it was delivered or whether we read it when it was posted. Everyone (your mom; you; those who knew you through the lens of your mom; those who know you for you; those who know you through the lens of family; neighbors; co-workers; etc.) walks away getting what they want from this brilliant piece.
Thank you for posting this.
Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!
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