Marie Halverson, 1923 – 1994 When her mother died 19 years ago, the funeral, "was like a bad Seinfeld episode," Kathy says. "It provided me with a good story to tell at parties but not much else." Elizabeth Marie Hollway Halverson had died rather abruptly when Kathy, her youngest daughter, was across the country on a business trip. "She was just gone,” Kathy remembers – there was no opportunity to say goodbye.
During the last year, events in Kathy's life turned her thoughts increasingly to her mother. She found herself in a closet pulling down a nearly forgotten box she'd packed away at the time of her mother's death. Inside was a veritable treasure trove: packets of letters Marie had written to Kathy, photos and other keepsakes.
And then she read the blog post I'd written, titled "It's Never Too Late," about the celebration of life a colleague had done for her step-father eight years after his death. Kathy decided, as a birthday present to herself, to create a ceremony of remembrance for her mom.
During the last year, events in Kathy's life turned her thoughts increasingly to her mother. She found herself in a closet pulling down a nearly forgotten box she'd packed away at the time of her mother's death. Inside was a veritable treasure trove: packets of letters Marie had written to Kathy, photos and other keepsakes.
And then she read the blog post I'd written, titled "It's Never Too Late," about the celebration of life a colleague had done for her step-father eight years after his death. Kathy decided, as a birthday present to herself, to create a ceremony of remembrance for her mom.
Over several months we worked together as Kathy excavated her memories of her beloved mom. She read through all the lovely letters her mother had written her, many from the happy period in later life when she and her second husband roamed North America in a travel trailer. Kathy wrote a letter in return, sharing who she had become and expressing what she hadn't been able to at the time of mother's death. She sorted through photos, creating a beautiful book captioned with some of her mom's wise little observations on life. Together, we wrote a eulogy, weaving Marie's words together with Kathy and her sister's memories.
As Kathy's birthday approached, she curated the other elements that would comprise the ceremony: an opening chime; a favorite poem, dog-eared in her mother's worn leather-bound poetry volume; the song Stand by Me performed with raw emotion by a longtime friend who had weathered much loss of his own; and a fountain for the garden, to be dedicated to her mother with a blessing through this ceremony.
As Kathy's birthday approached, she curated the other elements that would comprise the ceremony: an opening chime; a favorite poem, dog-eared in her mother's worn leather-bound poetry volume; the song Stand by Me performed with raw emotion by a longtime friend who had weathered much loss of his own; and a fountain for the garden, to be dedicated to her mother with a blessing through this ceremony.
On a late summer day in her backyard, surrounded by her husband, the 18 year-old son who had never had the chance to know his grandmother, her sister and a few close close friends, Kathy said goodbye - and hello - to her mother in a new way.
About the experience she says, "After Mom died, I missed her deeply. It shadowed most everything. Now, having put in the work I did to create this ceremony, I feel like she's there, inside of me. Not as my mom, necessarily, but as her. As Marie. I can feel how and why she made the decisions she made in her life. I can feel her as a part of me - the best part. I guess she's always been there, but before, I didn't really conceive of how alike we are, and I get that now.
"I'm at peace. And I can look out my back door and there are hummingbirds, and bushtits and chickadees that all bathe in that fountain. How cool is that?"
About the experience she says, "After Mom died, I missed her deeply. It shadowed most everything. Now, having put in the work I did to create this ceremony, I feel like she's there, inside of me. Not as my mom, necessarily, but as her. As Marie. I can feel how and why she made the decisions she made in her life. I can feel her as a part of me - the best part. I guess she's always been there, but before, I didn't really conceive of how alike we are, and I get that now.
"I'm at peace. And I can look out my back door and there are hummingbirds, and bushtits and chickadees that all bathe in that fountain. How cool is that?"
The ceremony closed with these words, drawn from one of the childhood books Kathy and Marie had cherished together:
"Kathy, today, for your birthday, you’ve given herself the gift of writing a closing chapter to her story with your mother. With the suddenness of your mom’s death, there was no last page. Now, there is. The story is not over, of course, for Marie’s legacy clearly lives on. But the book is now like Marie’s poetry collection, well-worn, well-loved, full of emotion, full of beauty – complete.
"It’s as though Marie is saying to us as Charlotte said to Wilbur in Charlotte’s Web: 'I feel peaceful. Your success is to a small degree, my success. Your future is assured. You will live, secure and safe. Nothing can harm you now. All these sights and sounds will be yours to enjoy – this lovely world, these precious days….'
* * *
"Kathy, today, for your birthday, you’ve given herself the gift of writing a closing chapter to her story with your mother. With the suddenness of your mom’s death, there was no last page. Now, there is. The story is not over, of course, for Marie’s legacy clearly lives on. But the book is now like Marie’s poetry collection, well-worn, well-loved, full of emotion, full of beauty – complete.
"It’s as though Marie is saying to us as Charlotte said to Wilbur in Charlotte’s Web: 'I feel peaceful. Your success is to a small degree, my success. Your future is assured. You will live, secure and safe. Nothing can harm you now. All these sights and sounds will be yours to enjoy – this lovely world, these precious days….'
* * *
Nobility by Alice Cary
True worth is in being, not seeming,
In doing, each day that goes by,
Some little good—not in dreaming
Of great things to do by and by.
For whatever men say in their blindness,
And spite of the fancies of youth,
There's nothing so kingly as kindness,
And nothing so royal as truth.
We get back our mete as we measure--
We cannot do wrong and feel right,
Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure,
For justice avenges each slight.
The air for the wing of the sparrow,
The bush for the robin and wren,
But always the path that is narrow
And straight, for the children of men.
'Tis not in the pages of story
The heart of its ills to beguile,
Though he who makes courtship to glory
Gives all that he hath for her smile.
For when from her heights he has won her,
Alas! it is only to prove
That nothing's so sacred as honor,
And nothing so loyal as love!
We cannot make bargains for blisses,
Nor catch them like fishes in nets;
And sometimes the thing our life misses
Helps more than the thing which it gets.
For good lieth not in pursuing,
Nor gaining of great nor of small,
But just in the doing, and doing
As we would be done by, is all.
Through envy, through malice, through hating,
Against the world, ,early and late.
No jot of our courage abating
Our part is to work and to wait
And slight is the sting of his trouble
Whose winnings are less than his worth.
For he who is honest is noble
Whatever his fortunes or birth.
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