My mother was the youngest of her ten siblings, and this is my tribute to all mothers and grandmothers. I am the youngest of my parents’ seven children. I might add that I am one of her favorites, but I’ll discuss that more later. She was born in 1920 and passed away at the age of 82 in 2003. Just days before her funeral mass, I read a poem that I would later include in her eulogy. Writing it was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but I felt compelled to do so. If you knew my parents, you would understand that they would never say goodbye without thanking you for visiting. The poem is by Linda Ellis and is simply titled “The Dash.”
I’m not going to write out the poem today, but if you research her name, you’ll find it easily enough. The premise of the poem comes to mind vividly whenever I look at a tombstone. The poem discusses how the “dash” on a tombstone provides only the years of a person’s birth and death. This dash, which appears between those two dates, holds the story of the person’s life—the countless little experiences, much like stars in the sky. However, it reveals nothing about the individual: whether they were good or bad, religious or not, happily married, divorced, or never married. It doesn’t convey the pain of childbirth, the grief of losing loved ones, or the sorrow of being unmarried or unable to have children. It fails to share details about education, beliefs, sexual orientation, or any of life’s joys, sorrows, or struggles. All of these are hidden secrets within that seemingly insignificant dash.
An example I’d like to share is a personal story about my parents. They loved each other unconditionally. However, on a cold winter’s day, about two weeks before my second birthday, my mother was two months pregnant with what would be my little sister. My father was shoveling snow when he slipped on ice and hit his head. He didn’t think it was severe enough to keep him from working his shift at the local transit company. Unfortunately, his story took a tragic turn—he suffered a debilitating stroke due to an aneurysm.
Before that fateful day, my mother was a stay-at-home mom. Suddenly, her life underwent a complete metamorphosis. Instead of asking, “What will I do now?” or “How will I manage?” she faced tremendous challenges. With two months to go until the birth of their child, she had to figure out how to pay bills, feed our six children, nurture my dad back to health, find work, and deal with the overwhelming list of responsibilities that suddenly fell on her shoulders.
The vows of “for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health” were not just words for my parents; they represented a way of life. They took these commitments seriously, as did their parents before them.
That story is just a “dot” in the infinite tapestry of her life, which I believe continues to unfold in the afterlife. In closing, I wanted to share a glimpse of that life filled with humor, reflection, and appreciation for all the relatives, family, and friends who supported her during her “Dash Journey.” There were those family members who chipped in financially to help them get by, and the corner Jewish deli owner, Oscar Lavine, who would say, “Take that bread or milk; it goes out of date tomorrow,” or “Until your husband’s back on his feet, I will run a tab for the things you need, adding them to my cost. You can pay what you can and settle the rest later!”
My father didn’t come home until after my sister was born in September. It took my mom nearly 18 months to find work while my dad got healthy enough to manage a household with seven children, including a newborn.
You see her “Dash” holds the fabric of that one story shared. The poem concludes with the wisdom of our poet, Linda Ellis, posing the question…
“What will your dash say about you and how you spent your Dash!”
The premise of the poem is looking at the (-) on a tombstone of a loved one
Oh! As one of her favorites, she loved us all the same, but the story was that she was due to have me on the Leap Day of a Leap Year (1956), but I came four days early.
My much older cousin’s husband, an Upper Darby Cop, took my mom to the hospital as my dad was at work. He dropped her off at the ER and parked the car. When he came looking for her, they informed him that she had just given birth to a healthy baby boy. So, she always told everyone I was easy on her!
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