These were the notes that I read for my mother's funeral on December 19, 2013 that were prepared on our flight out to Oklahoma.
Welcome to all of you. My name is Eugene
Thompson and my family has afforded me the opportunity to speak for a few
minutes about our mother, whose life we are all celebrating here today
together.
We call it a celebration because that's what I
believe she would have wanted for us today, to be strong. Regardless This is
still hard. This still hurts.
There is a void.....like an empty well......and
our well is dry, and we keep dropping the buckets back down the hole....but
they still come back up empty. Today we scour our hearts for comfort.
I realized as I set about this task, that a son
sees his mother in a different context than those of you who are lifelong
friends or other family members. It will even be difficult to speak on behalf
of my siblings since I was so much younger......I was always considered the
baby......But I will try to represent our shared feelings of love, devotion and
admiration we all felt towards our mother.
To start off, a short story so we can set the
tone for who our mother was, let me clarify something in case you might be
confused. Most of you probably knew me by Darrel
Eugene Thompson growing up. 20 years ago when I began working in Philadelphia I
decided to go by my middle name. There was this show on television that had the
characters who always introduced themselves as, "Hi, my name is Larry and this is my brother Daryl and my other
brother Daryl." Well you can imagine the number of times I was asked
"where my other brother Darrel was."
I had told mom that I had decided to go by my
middle name from now on and if she would please use Eugene. She
proceeded to tell me that she had given me both names and she could call me
whatever she darn well pleased........that
was my mom. Just a bit on the obstinate side.
I had to inform my office secretary that if she
received any calls for....Darrel.....that it was either a bill
collector or my mother. I'm not sure she ever called me Eugene.
When we think of mothers, we like to imagine
our moms as the June Cleavers' of the world. You know the kind....the ones that
keep everything clean and orderly – the
kind that baked cookies every afternoon for after school. The kind that had
dinner ready on the table when your father arrived home from work. The kind
that would never say a harsh word......always talking of encouragement. The
kind of mother that would never have a hair out of place. You know.....the
Wilma Flintstone who's hair stands up on end and then falls back in perfect
order. Now I have seen some old black and white photos of mom with her
"hair" sticking up....with the help of an inordinate amount of
hairspray.
Other than that I cannot say that describes our
mom the way I remember her. And I do know that she did much more of those
things for Mike, Marilyn and Don before I was born. Now don't get me
wrong.....I believe ......without a doubt she loved us all very much. To her
credit, I don't think I have ever met a June Cleaver.
What I
best remember our mother as a helpmate
to our father. Therefore, much of the stories I have to share today about our
mother includes our father. They were inseparable.
Mary Luella Clark was born on August 13, 1931
in Colorado Springs Colorado. She would have been 83 this next year. She was
the daughter to Mary and Ray Clark. And sister to three brothers. Ray, Robert
and George.
Shortly after her birth, I understand that
their family moved to Little Rock Arkansas for a short time before grandpa got
a job in Pittsburg Kansas in the late '30s This is where she grew up and went
to school. Mom never shared a whole lot with me about her childhood with the
exception of a few stories. I know she loved math as well as reading. She loved
reading books as a kid and continued reading until she died. Her house is full
of paperback novels. As a kid, One of her favorite series was Little House on
the Prairie. She tried to inspire us kids to read. I was a little more
resistant. She even tried getting me to read the little house on the prairie
books but there was no way that was happening. I think that disappointed her a
bit.
When elementary school started forcing
you to read.....can you imagine the public school system doing such a
thing?.....she once again was a little disappointed in me because the books I
selected to read were these little thin things about sports heroes. The life of
Bart Starr, Babe Ruth, Lou Gehrig, Joe DiMaggio and so on. She told me those
didn't count. I told her that technically they did......because they were
"books" and they were in the library.......I remember the frown she
gave back to me. I finally did read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory but only
because I saw the movie first.
I disappointed her again when in JR High when
instead of a doing a proper book report I again turned to a movie book and read
Young Frankenstein. I was even supposed to give an oral report standing up in
front of the class which I evaded by drawing a giant poster picture and just
standing stupidly quiet in front of my classmates. I got an A for that report.
My mom she shook her head at me.......that's okay, it was mom....she still
loved me.
I was told that in school our mom also played
basketball and was pretty good at it. She didn't think it was funny when I
asked her if basketball was even invented back that far. I had always found the
thought of her playing basketball odd just because I never saw my parents do
anything that would ever qualify as active.
She did enjoy watching basketball on TV....not quite as much as football
but she did enjoy it. Either her eye sight was going or she needed a new TV
because at one time she thought that Shaq was white. How she ever thought that
giant seven foot tall black man was anything but black I will never
know.....and the fact that she argued with me about it for days. That was
mom......she made us laugh too.
Mom eventually met dad, Kenneth Wray Thompson,
in school and they were married June 2, 1951. They lived in a few places as
they started off their lives together but they first lived for a short period
in Minnesota where she was a telephone operator. You know the kind that had to plug in the
cords into a big switch panel? Mike, just must have been pregnant with you
during that time because she mentioned to me only recently that she could no
longer stretch from ones side of the switch board to the other while balancing
on a stool.....it was safe. From their they moved to a few different places,
due to Dad being a Jewel T salesman, Frontenac Kansas, Fayetteville Arkansas
and back to Pittsburg before they called Bartlesville home right around 1961.
Mom, Dad, Mike, Marilyn and Don first moved
into a small house over on Seneca Street. I wasn't even a thought yet.
At first, mom worked at a bread store over near
Frontier pool but most of the time she was mom to her three children who needed
her at home.
Earlier I joked about comparing mom to June
Cleaver but I believe that she did all those things and more as much as
possible. She took care of the house and my brothers and sister......cooking
and sewing clothes......while dad did his best to provide for the family. They
had it rough trying to make ends meet but between the two of them they loved
their family and they loved each other.
That is the definition of a helpmate.
Genesis
2:18
And the Lord God
said, “It is not good that man should be alone; I will make him a helper
comparable to him.”
God had seen that Adam wasn't going to be able
to do all of these things alone, so he provided Eve. She was not only his helper
but they became one, pretty much inseparable. That is how I remember our
parents.
About a year after I was born, in 1966 dad opened the tax office. As I mentioned, there was a
pretty big gap between my older brothers and sister. They were 8, 10 and 12
years older than me. Life changed a little and I was raised a little different
than them.......in the office.
You might have looked at it like I was spoiled.
I didn't have to share anything. I had it easy. I looked at like you guys were
able to share the chores......when you grew up and moved away......I had to do
all the chores! There wasn't anyone to share them with.
It wasn't long at all before Dad's business grew and needed mom to come and help. He
didn't really ask....she didn't really want to leave the kids at home but he
needed her....that is why I was
dragged along and basically grew up in back office. From then on they were
always together in work and play. They went to work together. They went to
lunch together. Murphy's Steak House.
They didn't have much down time but when they did, they square danced together.
Maybe a few movies later on......again always together......And then some more
work together. Dad was a little bit of a workaholic. Mom didn't drive back then
so they had to be together. Mom was
even there with him on those late nights during tax season. She wouldn't leave
his side. She helped run the office while he prepared the taxes. Back in the day before computers.
She made copies of all the taxes for the clients,
ran the photocopying business, ran the Western Union business.......she helped
dad with all those crazy new schemes he would come up with to make an extra
buck for the family. For the next twenty years they were by each other's side.
Working each day side by side. Loving each day side by side. Living their lives
each day side by side. Our mom had became a different type of helpmate.
Mom continued helping Dad with his next round
of wild business ventures. They took business trips to the Cayman Islands,
Mexico City, Zihuataho, and even through the states. There was the non aerosol
patent, the ice machine for fishing boats and even the various tax offices he
opened around Oklahoma. Mom was there by his side supporting him all the time.
Things got easier financially for them as the
business grew. But I don't think the finances necessarily made it any easier on
mom. Working side by side with your husband isn't always an easy task. You can
ask Regaina about that. Some of us entrepreneurs are a bit stubborn at times
and more than likely a bit difficult to live with. Now you know where mom got it from. When Dad was diagnosed with
diabetes their lives changed. Mom needed to once again become a different type
of helpmate.
She cared for our father daily. She had to
watch what he ate and began preparing more meals for him.....salads.....no more Murphy's Steak House. Every morning our mother would take his
insulin out of the refrigerator and bring it to him so he wouldn't forget to
take it.
Because he would.
She had to be careful that he didn't overwork
himself too much.
He did anyway.
She had to make sure he didn't stress too much.
He did anyway.
Living with a diabetic isn't easy. Back then
especially. You get moody, tired easy, depression often, angry easily. Dad was
no different. Even with these new struggles in their lives, it was pretty rare
to hear them argue, even as his health continued to get worse. Her support and
love gave us all an example to follow in our own lives.
When our father did pass away it created a huge
hole in her life. As you would imagine. And as it did for us all. Although we
should have anticipated it, death is never expected. Just as hers has caught us
all unprepared.
For the next 28 years Mom continued on with her
life....doing what she could do to keep going. We knew she missed dad terribly.
She took small odd jobs to keep herself busy and make some money. She worked as
a gas station attendant, convenience store clerk and a check out at several
cafeterias.
We didn't have much but we tried several times
to get her to come out to Virginia to live with us.......but she
wouldn't......this was her home.
WHY
We ask why. Why does God allow sickness and
death? Why did God choose this time to take our mother?
First of all God never said we wouldn't have
sickness. Ever since Adam and Eve first sinned in the Garden of Eden he told us
that we would work and toil and have pain. No longer in the garden, our bodies
would grow old and eventually fail us. Our bodies were meant as a mere vessels
to carry our souls. He didn't want us to live forever. He didn't want us to
desire this world so much that we wouldn't want to leave. To leave ...... and join him in heaven.
So God gave us a free will so that we would want
to follow his commandments and to want to love him. Love him enough to put all
the worldly things aside and to seek for ourselves what was right and just. To
seek just what King Solomon discovered.
Solomon was one of the
wisest men on earth. Because of his faithfulness God asked what he wanted in
return. Solomon asked for wisdom. God gave him everything else to go with it.
Power, wealth, knowledge and understanding. He didn't withhold anything.
In Ecclesiastes Solomon
wrote about how he had been so blessed......but has yet to find happiness or
satisfaction under the sun. Everything is vanity.
Ecclesiastes 2:4-11
I made my works great, I built myself houses, and planted myself
vineyards. I made myself gardens and orchards, and I planted all kinds of
fruit trees in them. I made myself water pools from which to water the
growing trees of the grove. I acquired male and female servants, and had
servants born in my house. Yes, I had greater possessions of herds and flocks
than all who were in Jerusalem before me. I also gathered for myself silver
and gold and the special treasures of kings and of the provinces. I acquired
male and female singers, the delights of the sons of men, and musical instruments
of all kinds.
Whatever my eyes desired I did not keep from them.
I did not withhold my heart from any pleasure,
For my heart rejoiced in all my labor;
And this was my reward from all my labor.
Then I looked on all the works that my hands had done
And on the labor in which I had toiled;
And indeed all was vanity and grasping for the wind.
There was no profit under the sun.
Solomon had found out that all the material
wealth here on earth meant nothing. All of it would eventually fade away and there
would be no value.
The next question is why now? Why this time for
our mother?
That is a good question.....we don't know when
he will call us home but we know God has a plan and that there is a time for
everything. And we need to believe in it.
Ecclesiastes
3:1-8
Everything has it's time
To everything there is a season,
A time for every purpose under heaven:
A time to be born,And a time to die;
A time to plant,
And a time to pluck what is planted;
A time to kill,
And a time to heal;
A time to break down,
And a time to build up;
A time to weep,
And a time to laugh;
A time to mourn,
And a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones,
And a time to gather stones;
A time to embrace,
And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to gain,
And a time to lose;
A time to keep,
And a time to throw away;
A time to tear,
And a time to sew;
A time to keep silence,
And a time to speak;
A time to love,
And a time to hate;
A time of war,
And a time of peace.
So even Solomon with all his wealth and great
power wasn't able to create anything on this earth that would last.......no
temples, no great gardens, no people remain, nothing exists....just his
faith......and his words of his faith. They have survived for thousands of
years beyond the decay.
Likewise with our mother, there will be no
account of her physical things. What will
remain is what we choose to remember
her by. Today, I choose to honor her by remembering only the positive things.
I
choose to cherish these memories and share them with our children and our
grandchildren and one day...our great grandchildren.
I will tell them about her
and they will know her name, and who she was, and what she means to us.
This is
what will bring us comfort.
I choose to remember her delivering great joy to her family. Not
standing in the spotlight,....but she was our light and our glue. She gloried in her family
and friends, her grandchildren and great grandchildren
.....and her doggies. She loved those silly
critters. She deserved more peace and happiness.....and less difficulty....than was afforded to
her over these last years.
Our mother will become greater than all of us. She will not just be remembered as mother
or wife or sister or aunt or
grandmother or even great grandmother that died. To honor her ...... and because of her, I believe that our families
that have been somewhat
estranged by distance and time and difficulty can became a single large unit – she was our matriarch, and her iron can forge us into something greater
than we were .......multiple
threads of family .......woven
into one.
Once again a helpmate. This we can find comfort and celebrate.
She was our mother, and in that role we could
not have asked for more. She
did everything she was supposed to do and more – she took care of us when we
were sick, celebrated our victories, comforted us in defeat, punished severely
those that dared harm us, and pointed us......rather firmly at times....in the right
direction.
After all that she was and is, our mother has
one more role to play. She will become our ancestor, and it is that for which we stumble now. There is no quiet where we are. Our well is dry,
and the buckets come back up empty. Now we choose to scour our hearts, and we
scour them with grief.
But I have this picture
in my mind. I see Dad welcoming her home. His outstretched
hands reaching for her and embracing her.....by his side once again. No pain,
no tears.
As for us, This is
hard. This hurts.
Our mother taught us to be
strong.
She expects us to carry on,
and so we will.
We will be okay. We will fill up again.
But for now, the well is dry, and the buckets
come back up empty. Now there is no quiet where we are. Now we scour our
hearts.
We love you mom. You can rest now.
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