And just like that. One year ago today. Nov 19, 2023. 2:37pm. My mother died. This is one of my favorite pictures of us together taken at my bother’s cottage. It shows a kind of seriousness matched with a sense of serenity. She was good at telling her family that no matter what, it would be okay. Don’t worry.
I was with my mom, holding her hand at the end. And right beside me was my sister Lisa, along with my brothers Bob and Dan (and his wife Elizabeth). We were all there when she breathed her last breath. It was a surreal moment that I still have a hard time wrapping my head around. I actually convinced myself in the months leading up to her death, that somehow this lady would pull through like she always had and that this reality she was facing was not actually reality, but some cosmetic nightmare we would all wake up from. In the end, she had nothing left to give. She had given it all away – every last bit. She had used her life in the most precious way. To bless others. To sacrifice. And to show compassion with a tender heart. Never one to judge. She had a quiet strength. Her mercy was massive. And her laughter was her secret weapon. Her wild sense of humor and quirky wit combated the struggles she faced.
When we all knew the end was near, one day I looked across to her as she lay in the hospital bed and I asked her: “Mom, what do you want me to tell everyone?” And I can still vividly remember her child-like actions and the courageous words that followed. She raised her hands in the air in triumph as if she had just scored a goal or touchdown and smiled with a kind of giddiness, then proclaimed in no uncertain terms: “Be happy for me. I’m at peace!”
This is not exactly been a peaceful year for me. No words can accurately describe the vast emptiness left behind when this unusually unique spirit has left the earth. In the first few months after she was gone, I went about my days in a kind of fog. The shock was numbing. I didn’t feel much. The reality – insurmountable, even though I know intellectually life is finite – we don’t live forever. She was close to 85 years old. Bravo! She got cancer and was suffering. No one wanted to see her suffer. It’s better she goes. She had a powerful faith. Was not afraid to face her mortality. She was well loved – and surrounded in love in the end. She had a hard, but fantastic life. What more can we ask for?
And yet the heart hurts because the missing is too much. The grief does not get better. It gets different because when you bury someone you love, the love doesn’t die with that person. It’s been my experience, the exact opposite happens. The grief grows because the love grows with it. You make a kind of uneasy peace with that. It’s a wicked, complicated, yet beautiful dance between love and grief. And that’s okay.
It took me until about March, before I started writing again. Once I finally was able to grasp what I was trying to write, a new play emerged. I used everything I’ve experienced this past year into this script. And I felt all along, my mom encouraging me like she always did, telling me: “Keep writing.” And so I did, over several months, I kept writing page after page for what I feel is the funniest piece I’ve written. That was one of my main goals – to write something that was funny, even though the overall theme has a serious tone. The humor in this new play is somewhat wicked, off kilter – something my mom would have appreciated.
I used to make my mom laugh whenever I kissed her on the cheek, particularly if I had a beard and mustache – like the picture below snapped a few years back. When she died, my sister and I were the last to leave her room. We lingered a few minutes and before I left, I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek like I did so often over the years. I can still hear her laughing…
“It’s a wicked, complicated, yet beautiful dance between love and grief.” Love this statement Romeo. YES…. You articulated in a way I couldn’t, thank you.
Romeo, how heart-felt and touching and loving. I finally have now read your piece after returning to Europe and, as you know, parting recently with my own parent. Strangely l also used “quirky humour” in my Dad’s eulogy and he also had a beard when l was a child. I used to either giggle or find it too scratchy as back then but either way l loved it, as your mother loved your beard. That’s why l asked that my Dad’s beard remain when he was buried.
The pain doesn’t go away, we’ve both said, but l suppose it changes.
Beautiful tribute to “Gamma Ch oh fee” This is what baby Peter Jenkins used to call her when she would hold him.
Peter is in his 40’s now with two boys of his own.
Your tribute to your mom and your determination to keep writing is inspiring. The Ciolfi family holds a special place in my heart and in my prayers
Thanks for sharing this beautiful remembrance
The first anniversary marking the death of a loved one can be very difficult, especially when we are talking about a mother. Mothers hold a special place in our hearts that even death cannot sever, and I see that with you and your mom, Romeo. The beautiful pictures say it all! May you and your siblings find comfort as you reflect during this time, and when you are feeling sad, remember her words: “Be happy for me. I’m at peace!”
Thanks for sharing these thoughts, Rome. You put things so well as you describe this feeling we all go through when we lose someone close to us, especially those who are a big part of our life.
Beautiful photos of what was obviously a beautiful relationship. The love you shared shows through bright and clear. Treasure your memories of good times together.
What wonderful memories you have of your mother.
Your Mom was special and your biggest cheer leader. That bond will never change and will grow stronger as you said in this lovely expression of your feelings. She’s in your heart ❤️ and will never leave.
Romeo
What a lovely tribute to your mom. I have watched you suffer with grief. How could you not miss someone like your mom. I wish I had met her.
Beautiful memories and always will be, with you forever
Time goes first it’s just like yesterday,.
She is watching you and your siblings about
My prayers goes to you and your family
🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏
Beautiful Romeo!
So heartfelt and touching, Romeo. Love the pictures…
A beautiful remembrance of a beautiful soul.