My dad wrote this for my grandmother's funeral service, and I love it so much I have decided to keep it here, where I won't lose it.
"There are delicate, cursive comments at the top left-hand corner of each of Chopin’s Preludes. The faded, pencil notations still teaching, still illuminating the musical poetry hidden within a jumble of lines, dots, curves, notes… “plaintive mazurka like”, “composer at peace”. These, and other worn pages of Haydn, Bach, Scarlatti, Beethoven, Bartok, are my most treasured of material gifts my mother left me. The last several years her fingers could no longer fill the room with joy, sadness, drama, romance, represented in these pieces, but I can still remember. I am so lucky that such memories flow whenever I bring one of her favorite pieces out. Whether I listen or play. A Bach Invention, a Mozart Sonata… But it is the Chopin Nocturnes that capture her spirit. The subtle melodies embraced by exquisite harmony.
And how much she did for us. Our childhood birthday parties were master classes in logistical asset deployment that would have impressed most generals. Cakes, ice cream, Kool Aid, balloons, games, party favors, and she made every one of our friends feel it was their party. As Sergeant at Arms she made sure beds were made, chores done, we were out the door to school in time. As Chief Medical Officer scrapes were properly doused in hydrogen peroxide, band aids applied, feelings soothed, appropriate doses of St Joseph Aspirin given. As Minister of Education, homework was done, simple as that, report cards scrutinized. As travel agent, while my Dad was making sure the tires were good, brakes fair, radiator full, my mom made sure the pantry in the camper was properly filled with the important things, chocolate, marsh mellows and graham crackers. (She didn’t tell us about the Scotch)
Our vacations started before dawn, dad carrying us still snuggled in blankets into the camper. We woke up to the sun rising over the Mojave Desert, as we headed to the Sierra’s, Yellowstone, Glacier National Park, Canada, Washington, the Pacific Coast. Dinners were always delicious (I seem to remember a lot of beans and hot dogs) , cooked on a Coleman Camping Stove, after cleaning our plastic dishes in cold, soapy dishwater we sat around the campfire, smoke in our eyes, watching the embers pop and burn out in the black night sky. Mom, those nights were epic.
I was so happy to take her to France, and will always remember her standing at the entrance to Eglise St-Germaine l’Auxerrois in Paris where our great, great…….. great grandmother was baptized in 1645, so happy we had to pull her from the ceiling.
On holidays everyone was welcome. As kids we were the luckiest. Wonderful aunts and uncles and cousins… Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and as we had our own families your grandkids felt your care and love…. And every Christmas Eve will be forever treasured.
And how proud you made us. Mom went back to school and graduated from CSUN with a degree in Education. And we graduated together. That was awesome. And she made sure she was at our kid’s graduations, whether it was Arizona, Los Angeles or Tuscaloosa.
And now her Nocturne is over as the E flat chord lingers …. Decrescendo Pianissimo"
