An Angel Joined Heaven on 9/21/07

10/3/07: For those of you who weren't able to attend the Celebration of Life Service last Saturday I've attached my eulogy to my Mom (and you can read Jeff's eloquent euology below mine here). Saturday was a gorgeous day and we sincerely appreciate the nearly 200 people who attended and shared love and support. For those who weren't at the service, you might like to know that a group of Mom's friends created hundreds of packets of bulbs which were given out after the service. Anyone who wished took them home & will plant them so that in the Spring when they bloom, we can be reminded of Joan and of her loveliness. There were Dutch Iris, Freesia & Daffodils and several will be planted at my parents home, as well as in a special place at the church. A few gardens in Wyoming will also be blessed with the blooms. God bless you all.... Andrea

From Saturday service on 9/28/07: I want to thank all of you for coming today. My Mom would surely be overwhelmed by the sight of so many amazing people, just as my Dad, brothers and myself have been overwhelmed by the phenomenal support and caring you have shown all of us. The cards, home-cooked meals, flowers, phone calls, e-mails, gifts and thoughtfulness you have shown us is really a testimony to the legacy of how much we all loved my Mom, Joan Paul.

There are 500 things I could say about how incredible my Mom was; her caring, creative, thoughtful, beautiful self. But I believe you already know this. I can tell you how deeply her passing will be felt – how the strongest stabilizing ties to my heart have been ripped from their foundation, shattering like a bomb into a million little pieces these last several months. But I believe you already know this. I can tell you how she was the glue that held me tight and I can tell you how she was “the rock” for so many of us; a rock of faith, friendship, support and love in the stormy seas of life. But I believe you already know this. Instead I will share with you memories of my Mom. I want to show you how she gave me 43 years of moments and how these moments have been precious gifts; pearls of wisdom and wonder on strands of love which I wear draped on my heart.

There is a pearl for honesty: when I was about 9 years old I remember going to a Der Weinerschnitzel (remember those?) with my Mom and while waiting in line for lunch, I spied something crumpled up on the ground. It looked like play money – like Monopoly money – so I squatted down under one of the tables and grabbed the crumpled bill. Turns out it was a $100 bill. Did my Mother pocket it and keep it for me? Did she save it for a rainy day? No, she closed it tightly in her hand and asked every person in line “Have you lost any money today? Please check your pockets.” One man reached into his pocket and said “I had a $100 bill in here. Have you found it?” Smiling, she handed it over. Needless to say, I wasn’t smiling. “It was never ours to keep” she explained, and I learned a priceless lesson about honesty that day.

There is a pearl for creativity: sometimes when Dad was at the fire station all night, Mom dreamed up this idea of “mystery dinners”. Matt, Jeff, Janice and I were each able to pick a scrap of paper out of a hat: you would either get main course, beverage, dessert or side dish. Then Mom would secretly plan a dish with each one of us, she would let us pick what we wanted and then we would make a shopping list and she would go into the grocery store separately, with each one of us, and buy whatever ingredients we needed. She didn’t stop us from feasting on teriyaki steak with baked potatoes loaded with sour cream & cheese, root beer floats for beverages and pie for dessert (or whatever else we each may have picked).

There is a pearl for compassion: one day when I was about fifteen and much too concerned with the color of my hair or the look of my clothes, Mom and I went to the grocery store. As we drove down a busy street in Lakewood, we passed a bedraggled man who was dirty, bleary-eyed, seemingly homeless and “scary-looking”. He had a sign propped next to him while begging for money: “Will work for food”. After getting everything on our shopping list, Mom drove over to Carl’s Jr. and bought a full meal for the man. Returning to the place where we had seen him, we pulled over and offered him the food. He was suspicious at first, but she simply smiled and said she hoped it tasted good, and as we drove away I saw him unwrap the burger and bite into it.

There is a pearl for selflessness: she came to every game and meeting, to every practice and performance. Her support and her belief in me was unquestionable and she took me to anything in which I expressed interest: Indian Maidens & Church Choir, Girl Scouts and Gymnastics, Brownies & Bobby Sox & Baton lessons. There were private swim lessons, painting lessons, hula classes and guitar lessons, reading programs at the library and Herbold’s Hustlers, a baseball training program attended mostly by boys, but which she insisted I could do also. There were horse-riding summer camps, English riding lessons, cheerleading camps and an AFS summer program to Central America.

She used to get up in the morning with me when I started running in 9th grade. At 6 AM she would follow me in the car, to make sure I was safe and to encourage me to go further. As I expanded my range of running, we would drive different “routes” later in the day and take the mileage so I could keep track. She sewed me outfits and costumes, stayed up wrapping Christmas presents until 2 a.m., helped me make kites or posters when I ran for student council, catch ladybugs and crush aluminum cans which Matt and I collected from neighbors trashcans on garbage. Please note these were neighbors in Long Beach, many years ago, and not our current Nipomo neighbors.

She worked part-time to help put me through college and was always at the house when I got home from school. Just last March she visited me in Jackson and stayed up until 2 A.M. with a packed bar of 20-somethings to hear me sing in a reggae band and to dance with my friends that had come out for the show. Can you imagine how she did all this not only for me, but for all of her kids?

She loved flowers and cats, children and hummingbirds, monarch butterflies and walks in the park. She loved dainty tea cups, family gatherings, morning light and giving to others. She excelled at scapbooking, quilting & stamping cards. She didn’t like T.V. or coffee, alcohol or dark places, dust or dirt, smoking or traffic. She loved, above all else, her family. She was faithful to God, even unto the end, despite her pain and suffering, despite the seeming unfairness of losing Janice in 2003 and the unjustness of Stage IV cancer, the seeming loss of dignity and the exhausting march to death at the too-young age of 68.

She soothed our fears and wiped our tears, was generous with her hugs and her time, smoothed things over and made everything better. In pondering her passing, I am reminded of the old question when looking at a glass half filled with water: “is the glass half empty or is the glass half full?” Is her death tragic, unfair and too soon? YES.

But did we have time to say what really mattered? Did we have time to show our love? Did my Mom realize, for the first time ever, how many lives she has touched and how deeply she was loved? YES.

And so I say to you today that my Mom is finally at peace. She was at peace with going. She said to me several times “We’ve had a good life”. She also said, “I just hope I’m worthy. Then I’ll get to see Janice”. Just like her to find the positive aspect in all of it. She was surrounded by family in the last days, all of us united in tender love, care, fear and confusion. To the very end, she knew we were there. She would want us all to celebrate. She would want us all to laugh, to smile, to live and to go on loving. I’d like to read something a friend recently sent that made a lot of sense to me.

"Do Not Stand At My Grave & Weep.....Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there; I do not sleep.I am a thousand winds that blow,I am the diamond glints on snow,I am the sun on ripened grain,I am the gentle autumn rain.When you awaken in the morning's hush I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. I am the soft starlight at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there; I did not die."

She lives on in all of us: in the warmth of the hugs we share, in the glint of a tear, in the hope of a smile and in the joy of the friendships and the love that we share. This is the gift she has left each one of us – may we hold it tight to our hearts. Amen… my dear mother … Amen