Dear Readers,
Thanks so much to all of you who have followed Mom's story. Since my last post, so much has happened. We had incredible nursing care. We had great family time. And our mother had a beautiful send-off. She was surrounded by her husband, all four of her children, four of her five grandchildren, one of her sisters, and her lead nurse from hospice. Through it all she was aware and very much herself. We were able to tell her we loved her, we would miss her, and that we would take care of each other the way she took care of us.
On the quote wall, she had written: "Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall" (Oliver Goldsmith). My sister found a small quote book of Mom's (given to her by one of her students) in which she had circled and starred some of her favorites. Next to this Goldsmith quote she had written: "Of course." Of course.
I knew I would be sad. But I did not expect the joy to be mingled in as well. Her passing felt very much like a rising. I now feel the full force of her presence more than ever, though I suspect the hardest part is yet to come. My favorite part of the day is the moment I wake up, before I realize that this is real.
Thanks to all of you who sent kind words, kind thoughts, or offered your presence in some way at this past week's services. It was a comfort to the whole family and to her friends. Several people have asked me for a copy of the eulogy. Here it is (with more quotes from the wall!):
It is hard to be alive. For a lot of people it’s hard to wake up and the morning and lug their bodies out of bed, for some it’s hard to face what they see in the mirror, and for most of us it’s hard to find the daily courage and concentration to live the life that we want to every day. So many people have lived and died in this world that it’s hard to imagine that anything any of us do has meaning. It seems like with all the people that have lived and breathed that someone would have already figured out what there is to be figured out already. But, as I have been reminded in many ways throughout my life, you don’t know everything. But it’s nice to think each of us, by the end of our lives, can figure something out. And we can take what we have learned and pass it on to those who are just beginning their lives, to make it a little easier for them and for the world.
Rosie Kelly, my mother, knew a lot of things. And at the top of list of those things was how to listen. She was a humble woman who knew how to take advice from her elders and from the 3 and 4 year olds she constantly corralled. She looked for beauty and wisdom everywhere. A concrete example of this is in the bathroom of the home she created at 1830 E. Dugan Hollow Road in Madison, Indiana. Taped on the bathroom wall, in perfect view during the numerous daily potty breaks, is a collection of sayings and quotes that my mother started and others added to. I never asked her why she began this, but I don’t feel like I am stretching the truth in thinking that it was her intention to provide everyone who passed through her bathroom with a moment of reflection upon their lives. I say this not to make my mom sound like a Buddha, imparting her priestly knowledge on anyone that she could, but simply because I am like her. I am easily distracted, especially by the beautiful and fun things of the world, of which she taught me there are many. And at different points in my life when I have found myself sitting on the toilet, a small moment away from the constant demands that come with being alive, I have wished for those quotes to be taped on the wall across from me so I could use those minutes of reprieve for thinking about the beautiful parts of life.
So today I ask you, to take a break from the worry and demand of your life, and think about what a beautiful thing it is to be alive. What a beautiful thing it is we are all here together. And let us all take a moment to listen to handwritten pieces of advice that Rosie Kelly took time out of her life to stop and write down so she could be reminded —every day.
The first is from naturalist John Muir: "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe.”
or, as he said another way,
"When we try to pick out anything by itself we find that it is bound fast by a thousand invisible cords that cannot be broken, to everything in the universe." — John Muir.
She didn’t write it, but she lived it. I would often go looking for my Mom during or after school with some trivial question or request. When she wasn’t in her classroom, I would ask one of her fellow preschool teachers where she was, only to have them respond, “Where do you think she is?” And I knew the answer was always, “The woods.” She was constantly in awe of nature and taking lessons from it. One of Allie’s friends, Amanda Acker, said about her, “I remember her marveling at the plants growing up through the rocks.”
She was someone who appreciated every inch of the world and viewed it as a gift for us soak in. From the countless beautiful flowers that she spent her free time cultivating to the snakes and spiders that we found around our house. I was taught never to kill snake or spiders. In fact we have about 6 books on how to identify different types of snakes and spiders. Because mom appreciated all parts of nature and took lessons from them.
She looked at the cycle of life and death as just another part of nature. As a nurse at Methodist Hospital, Rosie cared for patients who had severe head and neck injuries many totally debilitating, some fatal. As a Lamaze instructor, she coached parents who were bringing new life into the world, many of whom invited her to attend and assist those births. She knew the full circle of life intimately. Maybe she had the ability to actually see those invisible cords of nature.
There is a picture of her on the beach, coffee mug in hand, the sun barely up, bent double, looking for shells. Which leads us to another of her favorite sayings:
“Wisdom is oft times nearer when we stoop than when we soar.” — William Wordsworth
Mom, she was a seeker. She was curious. She researched and valued and was intentional. She sought out different approaches by reading and sharing with others. She never thought she had the 100% right answer but she was excited about that small margin of uncertainty. It left room for wonder.
I remember numerous times coming home and being upset at a classmate or a teacher and Mom relentlessly responding to my complaints with, “Well, how do you think they view this same situation?” or “Well, they are doing what they think is right” and countless times I was so frustrated! I just wanted to complain! I wanted to take the easy route of exclaiming that they were wrong and bad! But Mom gracefully led me down the difficult path of humbling myself enough to acknowledge that everyone is feeling what they are feeling. We don’t know everything. And everyone has a right to think, feel, and be the person that they are. In doing this she laid a great foundation for me, my sisters, and everyone who she had an opportunity to teach. She taught all of us that all of us, ACTUALLY ALL OF US, EVERYONE WHO IS ALIVE, is a part of a family, and we should think, feel, and care about each other.
A good example of this is when she gave her commencement speech to the graduating class of Shawe fourteen years after first having them in class. She looked at every graduate as they sat in their circle of chairs and called each one by name. In order. She did not have a seating chart. Dad tried to talk her out of it. What if she were nervous and stumbled on a name? But she didn’t. She looked at them then as she did the first day she met them— as complete, unique, whole individuals. She really saw each one, as she did each child, each shell, each bird. She bent to meet them where they were. In so many of the moments of her captured on film, she is squatting. To plant a tree, to talk to a child, to be where she can really see.
Which brings us to our last quote: “The greatest pleasure of life is love” – Euripides.
And for this I am going to start with words spoken by my father: “Our commitment began when were 14 and 15, as a freshman and sophomore in high school. I had heard of Rosie York when I was an eighth grader, but I didn’t know who she was until I was a freshman. She walked into the gym when I was sitting on the bench. I liked her athletic walk and all the curves of her body. But she really was just athletic. I liked her short hair cut. I liked her freckles. But the more I got to know her, I just liked how sweet she was and how she loved me back.” Now Dad, I would never have the unique connection you had with Mom, but I have to say we have all felt something like this. Especially “I just liked how sweet she was and how she loved me back.” Love is such an easy word to abuse, misuse and often confuse with other emotions. But I have never felt love more than the love given by Rosie Kelly. She is a woman who constantly accepted those around her. From nursing to childcare, she cared for so so so many people. Accepting each person and treating them with the same acceptance and care with which she treated her own children. It is amazing. I, her son, who lived with her for 18 of my 23 years of being alive, still am in constant amazement of her ability to love everyone around her, to take in every piece of so many people’s being and to accept and care for them.
Let me take a moment to care for you all. Mom has gotten this love back a thousand-fold from the entire community, especially these past four years, and for that we are so grateful. Thank you.
So you sitting there in those oh-so-uncomfortable pews, (sorry Father) I ask one thing of you today. One thing. Just know it is possible. It is possible to accept and love all those you come across. It is possible to be nice and kind to people right away. It is possible to open your arms and mind to everyone around and to love them, even if you don’t like them or even know them. And it is beautiful to love those who love you. My mom, Rosie Kelly, showed me and my sisters that every day since we have been alive. So take today to love those around you and to remember Rosie Kelly.
Much love,
