Passion

I had a number of people that were wanting a copy of th eeulogy I delivered at my mothers funeral.
Here it is.

I have heard over the last few days, well months, really about my mothers zest for life, her joy for everything and her love of life. For me it comes down to one word: Passion.
It is a word that we hear quite a bit, but never really think too much about in terms of ones life. I believe that she was full of passion and embraced everything in her life with it.

She was passionate that that stack of checks in the basement from 1982 were in fact, very important documents that could not be thrown away.

She was passionate that in fact, Ty Pennington and the whole Extreme Makeover crew should just come and raze the house down and start all over.

She was passionate that I was totally off key with any and all political beliefs and couldn’t understand where she went wrong.

She was passionate about my father. And as we have witnessed over the years, that could be good or not so good. But she was. Starting from the fact that she thought he was a total idiot when they first met. And to hear him tell it, it was love at first sight.. And no more was that obvious to myself and my brother and sisters than over the last few months. From them kissing each other in the kitchen when we were younger to snapping at each other over some ridiculous petty thing, their 34 years together is something that we will always cherish as a family and look to as a role model.

She was passionate about her teddy bears and the fact that there was always room for one more in our house.

She was passionate that no matter what anyone says, Sadie is in fact, a well-behaved dog.

She was passionate about children. Having worked in the school system for so many years, I cannot tell you how many times we would be out running errands and she would see one of “her kids”. She never forgot a name, their teacher and we would have to stop and chat for awhile. And in the last few years, as we have gotten older and our friends have brought their children over, the pure joy she had for all of our friends children and our growing family.

She was passionate about shopping. No one could shop like my mom. My father, I belive will back that up. Every day after Thanksgiving off we would go. All I wanted to do was relax and watch some football, but no – she had to get out to the sales.

She was passionate about the disease that took her life. From every Walk For The Cure, to her luncheons that she put on, my mom was not going to let this disease do to other women what it did to her.

She was passionate that in fact, she would need all those stacks of magazines from the entire decade of the 80s at some point. For what, I am not sure we will ever know.

She was passionate that under no circumstances could you possibly have enough Christmas decorations, trees, snow men or Santa Clauses in your home.

And most of all, she was passionate about her friends and family. All of us. To the idea that Patrick could do no wrong – which is debatable, to her and Courtney’s daily routine of “How much I love you”, and her constant worrying that Melissa was doing the right thing and being taken care of. All the visits’ to family – insisting that we see everyone in Omaha for Thanksgiving and in recent years, all the laughs shared around the table in Cedar Falls.
And her friends. There are no words in the English language that will ever begin to express the gratitude and thanks that we have for the wild women walkers. And all of her friends that have supported her over the years, moving all over the world, raising all of us and still being a great friend. Thank you just seems horribly insignificant. My family and I, will be eternally grateful for all of the devotion, love, thoughtfulness and unending generosity that these women have shown. My mother and her friends have showed us that friends are in fact just an extension of family.


And I am passionate about the fact that the hole that has been left in her passing will never be filled. But I know that as I look out at all of you, your stories, thoughts, prayers and continued support will help make each day a little better.

There is a quote that I have had for ever in my cube and that my aunt has on a plaque in her house that I think captures my mom’s journey in every way possible.

“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive, well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, Champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming WOO HOO – What A Ride!!”


I will not let cancer define my mother. It showed us her strength, but it was in fact, the ride that made her the woman that we have all loved.

Woo Hoo.