Leah Cutter --Ramblings- Eulogy

Ramblings - Eulogy

Death renders us all inarticulate. Not because it robs us of our words, but because it steals our thoughts, hijacking them with "What ifs," "If onlys," as well as "Remember whens." It makes it difficult to do day-to-day things, even hold normal conversations that start innocuously with: "How are you?" Death embezzles the richness of our life, forcing a hollow center into our stories. We comfort each other, but it isn't enough. Not yet, at any rate. Probably not for a while.

We're told that death is part of the natural order of things. Yet, for me, it seems unnatural for my mom to no longer be here, for me to no longer be able to talk with her, to not share my life. I want to tell her about the new novel I'm working on. I want to be talk with her about going to Japan. I want to hear her stories about her recent travels. I miss sharing things with her.

I suppose this is a selfish view - I'd rather think of it as a personal one. An individual's death is very personal, as are our grieving processes. As part of my process, to help me deal with my loss, I'd like to share some thoughts with you. Maybe this will help you in your process as well.

My family always joked about how my mom was a tough cookie and took no prisoners. When I was a kid, I not only didn't get the historical context, I didn't understand what they meant by that, why she would or would not want prisoners. I figured that it meant she was, well, tough.

And she was. She was also smart, articulate, funny, opinionated, and stubborn. She wasn't demanding, but she did have high expectations, not just for me, but for everyone around her. She didn't suffer fools gladly. You should have heard her yelling at "Those turkeys" who were on the radio, on TV, driving. . .you get the idea.

When I grew older, and was finally able to put the saying, "Take no prisoners" into context, it seemed to me that it still exemplified my mom. The taking of prisoners, in some ways, implies compromise. Now, I'm not saying that my mom was incapable of compromise, however, she might not have done it often. She believed not just in doing the right thing, but that what she did was the right thing. It was much easier to agree with her than to fight her.

I still did, of course, it's what mothers and daughters do. I don't regret our arguments, though. I feel blessed that my mother questioned and challenged not only me, but all the institutions around her, the automatic prejudice and discrimination that we all face. My mom lived a large life, took big bites. She died doing what she wanted to do, living her life how she wanted to live it, enjoying it up to the last minute.

Now that I'm even older, I find myself, as frightening as it is, to be more and more in agreement with my mom about her approach to things. I wouldn't say that I've been a shrinking flower. I've lived kind of a big life myself. Ruminating about it now, thinking about life and death and the choices we make, I'm more than ever in alignment with my mom's philosophy.

Make the compromises you have to. Live with as much compassion as you can bear.

But take no prisoners.