“The “Light” Moves On…..

From the Other Side of the Edge….
The “Light” Moves On…..
By Joe Facinoli

The call came at 5 a.m. How fitting.

It was her favorite time of the day (or so she told us).

An hour when she always found the time to pack one more lunch, iron one more shirt, hang up one more load of laundry on the clothes line (inside or outside, depending on the weather, and the season), check over one more homework assignment, or write one more check, just in time to beat the late fee.

It was the time when she got the coffee brewing every morning, sending that marvelous smell throughout the whole house, slowly, almost irresistibly, waking everyone else.

It was when the bacon could be heard crackling, and sizzling (whenever she could fit that prized item into the tight budget), adding another heavenly and enticing wafting to the coffee aroma, the two of them filling our home with the smell of comfort, and normal,……and family.

It was when she lined up the cereal bowls, in a perfect row on the kitchen counter, which was always too small, but always just right, with her hand doing the arranging.

Behind the bowls were the half-filled glasses of orange juice (that budget thing again), with that precious drink getting warmer with each passing minute, but ready at a moment’s notice, for the next drowsy sleepyhead to pop around the corner, and into her realm.

Once the kids (five of us, born within a nine year span), and their Dad were up, she was a font of knowledge and information, about the day’s news, and assignments, and what clothes to wear, and everyone’s calendar for the day, the week, and the months ahead, and what homework we needed to check again, or to do over. (Just how did she keep all of that straight?).

All of this with encouragement, inserted where and when necessary, and not so gentle nudges applied, appropriately of course, whenever her charges veered from course, or their schedule.

After everyone was off, and out of the house, she became the proverbial “army of one”. Moving in twelve different directions at once, getting and keeping everything in order, readying the kitchen, all of our rooms, and the particulars of each of us, throughout the whole house, for the onslaught that was our return, …..to her castle.

And finding time, somehow and somewhere, to fit in teaching adult education classes in sewing and home economics (remember that?), and her constant volunteering at all the various schools, involved in all our lives.

We never appreciated, nor had any idea, really, what our Mom did for us then. Not until years later, when we all had our own, “responsibilities of love”, did we finally get it, …..just how much of herself, she gave to us.

A Mother’s Love Transcends All Other Kinds…..

It’s the most pure. The most understanding. The most giving (as she knows from her heart, that she really has no option in this).

It’s the most patient (well,…as often as possible, anyway). And the most forgiving (what else can she be, really?).

And by far, it’s the most Loving. For good reason, too. Because her children will always be her babies, and they will always be a part of her. Just as she, will always be a part of us.

When the call came, it was not unexpected. A long, and loving, and productive life lay behind her, stretched out over 88 well-lived and remarkable years.

The last few were a little challenging, physically, but her soundness of mind, her un-erring common sense, her ability to love, always in her way, endured throughout, and until the final moments.

Having been married to the love of her life for 59 years, and together producing those five strong kids, and then getting to watch over nine grandchildren, she could only smile with contentment, and pride, at the accomplishment of her life’s dreams.

We may feel, sometimes, as though our own efforts as parents, and as adults, are somewhat comparable, by their similar nature.   But hers is a bar is well set, and high, and as marked, should any of us get even close to it, then we can count those attempts, and our lives, as having been quite successful.

She did always do things her way, often to a fault, but always made it seem like your way, or your idea, and always in a good way.

She rode herd on everyone, and forever kept close tabs. But she also allowed all she touched to make their own space, to grow in their own way, and to be better from her influence, and her contact with you.

Without putting too big a point on it, she had a “Light” about her, which caused others to gravitate to her. To make others want to seek her out, and her opinion, and her thoughts, and to be around her, and with her.

While growing up, in our small community, all the neighborhood kids could be found, at one time or another, every day, on her back patio, or at her doorstep, in her kitchen, or even hanging out in the tiny living room, watching the tiny television.

And she would serve them up all the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and Kool-Aid (before Kool-Aid became political), and cookies that they could stand, or could stuff in.

Along with as much advice and consul as they needed (and sometimes more than they needed,….or wanted).

They found puzzles, and card games, and Monopoly, and jump rope maneuvers, and “made-up” games, and on and on. And they filled the house with their infectious presence, spilling out onto that memorable patio, and all over the yard.

She made it all available, these entries into life, and we loved it all.

And the adults too. In summer especially, but spring and fall and winter were little different. Inquiring about recipes, or how to stretch them. Sewing techniques, laundry tips and hints, flower garden dos and don’ts (her gardens were always spectacular), and all of life’s needs.

She shared her “Light” freely, easily, and naturally,….and loved doing it.

She truly enjoyed the accomplishments of others, and glowed even more with pride, over all her “children’s” successes, whether they be her own kids, other neighborhood rugrats, or any adults who happened to capture a bit of that “glow” for themselves, along the way.

Her talent as an artist clearly exhibited this. An ability to capture a scene on canvas, or a moment, so well and so convincingly, and to make people smile at the sight of them, and to remember them, was truly a perfect product of that Light.

Her Light....

Even at the end, she shined that Light in her own unique way. At a time when families can grow distant, and even apart, she was able to bring us close again.

Knowing that the end was coming, her “children”, from everywhere, from all over, gathered near to her, and in so doing, were able to rekindle, and reawaken, the Love that only that special Light of hers had brought to them, long ago.

And even at the end, she still did it her way.   Riddled with all manner of cardiac and blood pressure problems, hip surgeries (three in three years), and eventually a stroke, which left her unable to swallow, or eat, or even to drink very much, the strength of her will, and of her “inner” heart, enabled her to force out a few well-meant (and well kept) words, and to communicate with her bright eyes, and with her special smile.

And that was enough for all of us to take with us, …as, ….at her favorite time of day (or so she told us),……her “Light” Moved On.

A good friend once reminded me that:   “The spirit never dies”.

Though not a very religious person, in the traditional sense, nor in any particular way, I am a very spiritual person.

And more than enough to know that THIS special Spirit could not possibly die, nor THIS singular Light ever be extinguished.

Not with all the people she touched, and filled her life with, and who filled themselves with the warmth and perpetual glow of that “Light”, and of her unique and wonderful Spirit.

Peace to All. We love you Mom.

Joe Facinoli

--Joe can be reached at: joefacinoli@gmail.com

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