My mother recently died of complications from Alzheimer's disease. She played a huge role in helping to shape who I am. I would like to share with you my eulogy.
Jane Heller Frieden Eulogy July 11, 2013
Thanks to all of you for coming
today. My sister, Nancy, brother Andy
and I have many people to thank including our cousin Debbie Kaplan for hosting
us today, the many care givers at Beth Shalom and Eldercare, especially Sabrina
Williams, the “family” law firm of Faggert and Frieden and our friends who have
offered humor and support, especially Mary Ann Wegstrom who alerted us to my
Mother’s illness. I also want to acknowledge
Nancy’s work in helping to manage my Mother’s care and finances over many
years. Last but not least, I want to
express my gratitude to my wife Katie for her kindness and generous
spirit.
Given the pernicious nature of
Alzheimer’s disease, which increasingly burdened my Mother for almost ten
years, I have had the opportunity to observe and reflect on the many phases of
her life. This offers rare perspective,
because one can easily typecast and frame a parent’s role in just one category:
Mom, or Dad. Looking at the span of my Mother’s
life, there were episodes as student, apprentice teacher, wife and partner,
accomplished Professor, dedicated community volunteer, late blooming pilot,
genealogist and victim of dementia. One
can easily overemphasize that last phase, but the ones that preceded it offer a
better measure of her life.
My Mother embraced life and the many
tasks expected of her and others she gladly embraced. She was a wonderful match
to my gregarious Dad. My Father
exemplified the word raconteur, the Man about town, but alongside him—keeping
stride—was Mom. The two of them traveled
the world and danced throughout the years.
I have a fond memory of the two of them taking to the dance floor after
a weekend hairdressing clinic my Father organized. In the late sixties he offered hair cutting
workshops to his beauty and barber shop customers, each ending with a meal and
dancing. In these days of
Internet-mediated, “social networking” one can hardly envision such personal,
high touch events, but they were cutting a rug.
I distinctly recall how my parents
blended traditional and almost revolutionary elements in their
relationship. My Father had the gift of
gab, but my Mother could put him in his place if he overstepped. She started her flight training at the tender
age of 52, when my Father and I traveled to Australia to find opals. She had no intentions of passively awaiting
his return.
My Mother pursued lifelong learning
and became an accomplished art educator.
I recall with pride the number of times she would acquire an impromptu
tour group as she explained the nature and history of art objects at several
museums. Like my Father, she tried to
establish a personal relationship with everyone, especially her students, some
of whom achieved a greater appreciation not just for art, but for learning and
living a purposeful life.
My Mother gladly would have continued
an active and vigorous life in retirement had she not contracted Alzheimer’s
disease. Step by step, she declined,
giving up the computer and the Internet which had brought so much joy and
tasteless jokes. In time she had to
retire from a variety of community service responsibilities including the
Chrysler Museum, the battleship Wisconsin, Meals on Wheels and Make a Wish
Foundation to name a few. Her frequent
phone calls to me stopped.
This unrelenting disease robbed her of
so much, but remarkably it also provided us a perhaps a clearer picture of her
core self—unvarnished and uncensored.
Until near the end, she expressed so much joy with uncontrollable
laughter. Chocolate, Katie’s and my Corgi
Noo-Noo, and music from the 40’s brought unmistakable pleasure. Even as she lost her shortterm memory, she
could remember the lyrics to War-time songs.
She couldn’t remember Noo-Noo’s breed, or my name, but she could recite
the lyrics and perform the dance moves to Al Dexter’s 1943 hit “Pistol Packing
Mama.”
Today we grieve the loss of a truly
renaissance person, who delivered on the goals of “giving back to the
community” and living a purposeful life.
Both Jane and Joe Frieden remind us to “seize the day”: carpe diem,
because we simply do not know when and how our days fade to black.