Mom: It's Been a While....
Mom: It's Been a While....
A celebration at Power’s Farm | June 8, 2024 | Randolph, Massachusetts
This piece is the companion to which I referred in my post from last week, Peregrino: It's Been a While. In that, I wrote broadly about significant shifts in my life that have taken place over the past year.
Yet, one particular shift is of a magnitude that requires its own space. I possess an instinctual need to express and share the following reflection about my mom before I can fully engage with returning to the non-linear and serpentine travels that have defined my own days. As I wrote these words, I realized this companion piece is actually a troupe of three travellers. Expect a forthcoming third companion post in which I contemplate directions this Substack is evolving toward.
Just a few days more than a year ago, was the last time I spent time in person with my mom. I spent an autumn New England week visiting her, without an inkling that two months later she’d be gone from this world. She’d lived with cancer over the last several years; yet, during that time, she continued living… very much so. There certainly were many challenges around her health, particularly mounting in that last year. Still, she remained vibrant and active to the best of her abilities with the kind “fierce grace” described (and lived) by Ram Dass. She had injuries to her leg; these were related to surgery for the cancer… modern medical treatments seem a chain of events, some for better, some for worse. These injuries had limited her mobility such that she needed support from in-home aides. True to her profoundly giving nature, there were moments when she often supported those aides as much, if not more, than they were supporting her.
Below is my reflection upon my mom’s life. I presented it to those who gathered to celebrate her life at Powers Farm in Randolph, Massachusetts back in June. These are words about legacy. Not the kind that takes the form of a name appended to a building or organization. Rather, this is about a subtle legacy that extends lifetimes into the past. And one that holds the potential to carry on generations into the future. It’s the type of quietly impactful legacy that can outlast merely physical structures.
The Peace of Wild Things
When despair grows in me
and I wake in the middle of the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting for their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
—Wendell Berry
Mom
On Becoming Kind
Here’s a question: How does one become a kind person? That is, someone genuinely seen and known for their kindness?
We’ve heard or will hear many accounts today of the kindnesses my mother has shown others throughout her life. And, no doubt, there are countless instances that go unspoken yet still are appreciated by their recipients. Rising above her many extraordinary virtues, it’s kindness for which my mother may be best known.
A Child’s Perspective
Yet, you might wonder: “How did she come to embody kindness?” Other than my aunt and uncles, I have known my mom longer than anyone else who currently walks this earth. She and I have always held an exceptional closeness. Starting in my youth, we have engaged in myriad profound conversations. In the course of these discussions, I have been able to see first-hand, not only what she thought and how she acted, but also, over the span of her days, the sources from which those immediate behaviours arose.
I first began to see her kindness as a young boy, as she fiercely advocated for me as a whole person. I was a boy possessing profound sensitivities and an innate curiosity for the world. I often felt misunderstood by the world at large. Yet, my mom saw my own true self, unto my innermost parts. She celebrated this with me and with others. And if others did not see me as she did, she sought out those who would.
I also saw her kindness via a wonderful companionship during my teen years. This was an era where she was often mistaken as my older sister. With her youthful appearance and spirit, how could she not have been? We spent much time together as I helped her go about her days, raising three boys mostly on her own as a trailblazing working mom in addition to making time for her own personal enrichments. For a while, she was my best friend. Honestly, at times she was my only friend, in profoundly meaningful ways.
Later, I saw additional dimensions of her kindness over these last ten years, even though we were separated by a vast continent1. We’d find ways to engage in thoughtful, far-ranging conversations. Though this time with a new dynamic: our talks not only were about the challenges I faced in my life, but also about her own trials. Now she was able to be open with me in ways that allowed me to genuinely support her. These topics included complex aspects with respect to her own whole body and health, her relationships, and her own mortality. To be able to give meaningfully to someone who has long given you immeasurable treasures… well, I find this to be one of the greatest blessings of my life.
So… these are a few snapshots of her kindnesses I’d experienced directly as her son. Yet, how did this happen? How did she come to be this persistently enduring and giving human being who is so widely regarded, admired, and loved for her countless unfailing and enduring kindnesses to others?
I have insights regarding how this came to be.
In order to for you to understand, I first need to tell you a bit about some other magnificent souls who arrived here prior to both of us.
Grandma Pauline
Just this past week, mom’s sister and my beloved aunt Lucille (mom’s Irish twin, born less than a year earlier than her), shared with me a story about my equally beloved grandmother, Pauline Gasecki. Lucille told this story in response to my recalling the anniversary of Grandma Pauline’s death on May 30, twenty-two years ago.
Here are her words:
“Thank you, Eric for remembering my mother's date of death. It helps me remember mother's strong dedication to my father and her commitment to him his whole life. She was also dedicated to her four children even to the point of not eating if the occasion called for it. Once, in the fifth grade, I brought home after school a little girl from a local orphanage unexpectedly for supper. That evening mom did not eat supper to make sure we all ate well.”
Lucille continues:
“When I was criticized by my 6th grade classmates for my raggedy clothes, she made me a new skirt.”
And:
“When the soles of my shoes fell off and I had to tie them on with string for school, she gave me her shoes to wear and she wore mine to her job at Pratt & Whitney until we could afford to buy another pair.”
I’ve long observed that, of my four grandparents, Grandma Pauline was the one with whom I spent the least time. Yet, in spite of the cynicism and darknesses that arose within me during the last decade prior to her death, when we did connect I consistently felt inescapable upwellings of kindness and pure love… just as Aunt Lucille had.
After her death, the essence of Grandma Pauline’s spirit still abides. Her presence still speaks to, guides, and loves me. I carry her within, impressions forever imbued into the weavings of my own soul.
When I reflect on Grandma Pauline’s life, I also glimpse how Aunt Lucille and my mom engage with the world. I ascertained that they too share the same kindnesses that Grandma Pauline had shown me. I began to understand how… for many years and near unconsciously… how I’ve emulated these women in my own interactions and engagements with others. My kids, my friends, my partners, my students, my colleagues… as well as those with whom I simply found sweet, brief encounters as we happened to pass.
Great-Grammy Samsel… and Beyond
Still… this kindness… it extends beyond the sum of my relationships with this immediate lineage of women. It’s more vast than anything our conscious memories can grasp. It’s something generationally passed along and intrinsically embedded within our DNA.
Over the last year of her life, my mom and I spoke at length by phone many times, sometimes multiple times per week. In these conversations we found that we were able to hear and support each other with respect to the challenges and joys we were experiencing. Some of which were quite daunting.
In one of these instances I recalled my Great-Grammy Samsel. I barely knew her, only meeting her a few times as a young boy at her Plantsville, Connecticut home. Yet, I clearly recall feeling her love for me and my brothers… even from a woman who spoke basic English. Her expression extended far beyond the mere language of words. The power of her love was fabulously strong. So much so that these brief encounters persist vibrantly over more than a half century later.
In subsequent conversations… much later in life… with both mom and Aunt Lucille, I incrementally discovered the deep influences Great-Grammy Samsel held—and continues to hold—for so many in her now vast extended family. These include Grandma Pauline, her sisters, my mom and my aunt, and others of whom I’m barely aware… All of these women are part of a legacy of which my my Great-Grammy Samsel was the genesis of so much compassionate understanding, of seeing others in their genuine selfhood, of so much unconditional love. The impact of this one woman has been felt by so many lives. And how these lives, in turn, have each impacted so many of those with whom they came into contact.
A Revelation
One day, not long ago, it dawned on me:
“Wait…” I asked, “Who influenced Great-Grammy? Who nurtured her and showed her kindness? How did she learn to be so immensely kind?”
It just couldn’t have spontaneously sprung solely from Great-Grammy Samsel.
I began to imagine Great-Grammy Samsel’s own mother, her siblings, her friends, her grandparents, her great-grandparents. Who were they? Were they the ones who instilled within her the elements of love that became a dominant essence? An essence that she passed on to so many and that now resides, right here, right now within me.
This is the gift that has been passed along via my Grandma Pauline and then via my mom directly to me. For this gift, I am deeply blessed. It is more valuable to me than mere impermanent material possessions. It is an immutable gift; it is the universe’s only constant. It goes by many human derived names: source, God, YHWH, spirit, nature, higher consciousness, Atman, the forces described by physics on subatomic to astronomic scales. And no doubt many other approximations that are inevitably inadequate.
It is Love.
This lineage, these ancestors—regardless of whether we recall them or whether their names are now long forgotten—the power of this bloodline does not end with my mom nor with me. Our true legacy is not found via material wealth or status… these are illusions ultimately destined to be destroyed and forgotten sooner than we may imagine.
Instead, our legacy derives from our soulful and heartfelt stories, the ways by which we choose to lead our lives, the ways in which we make others feel, and from how they choose to remember us.
We now bear witness to a chain, a lineage, a legacy of humanity’s propensity for kindness:
The unknown ancestors…the ones who knew the both the paucity and fullness of being in Poland and the tumultuous fluctuations of Eastern Europe.
Great-Grammy Samsel.
Grandma Pauline.
My mom, Rosalind Stella Larson-Schwartz. Best known as Linda… a name that literally means “beautiful being.” And Stella? She certainly was a “star.”
All of them are all still here, with us, at this very moment.
For we bear within what they passed along to to each other and ultimately to each and every one of us who gather here today.
They gave us the one essence of being that is immutable, that is constant, that is unchanging, that is eternal:
Love.
Many you have been touched far beyond your expectations by her often unexpected generosities and kindnesses. There are many more of you of whom I am barely or not even aware. Those of you she touched and came alongside during segments of your own paths; I know she bestowed similar kindnesses unto you.
To all of you: Take her kindness. Gather up a handful of that abundant love she unconditionally bestowed upon you. Share it with someone you know could use a helping of love. Do not worry that you will lose anything… remember, you already possess an infinite supply.
Simply by knowing my mom, you already are a bearer of her spirit. It is now a part of you. Now go forth and share that with others. The rest is commentary.
She will know that you are doing this. She already does.
When my Grandma Pauline died, my mom described it as an episode of overpowering and divine beauty. Both my Uncle Ray and mom witnessed her passing. These are Grandma Pauline’s last words:
“Love conquers all.”
You don’t need to know anything else.
Thank you for showing up today. Keep on keepin’ on. And see you down the road.
I know firsthand how vast: I just crossed it with my youngest daughter as co-pilot over five days. The affects of such a journey are profound and at times ineffable.
What an amazing tribute to your lovely mom. She sounds like she was an incredible person. So sorry for your loss.