poems

Eulogy for My Mother, Ellen O’Laughlin

Kevin O’Laughlin

June 10, 2024

St. John Vianney Church, Cumberland RI

Good morning.

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Kevin the fourth of Ellen and George’s six children.   

I want to start by thanking you all for being here this morning to celebrate Mom’s life and help us say goodbye to her.

Today, I’d like to share with you some of my enduring memories of mom and what made her the most wonderful mother in the world.  She was other things, of course – a successful businesswoman, a savvy investor, and a consummate crossword puzzle enthusiast. But she was born to be a mother, and she was a great one.

She was wed to my dad, George in 1953, and soon after they started their family.  They had five children in six years, and then after a much deserved rest…four years later Sue joined the clan, making us six.  

When you are one of six kids, one-on-one time with either of your parents is a rare thing.  They have long transitioned from man-to-man to zone defense!  But Mom had an amazing gift to make every one of us feel, at times, as if we were an only child.

 

First Grade 

My first recollection of this was back in 1965 when I was six years old.  

We were living in Detroit and I was about to enter first grade at St. Bartholomews parish school just a block from our home.  They required uniforms, and since Dave hadn’t gone to first grade there, there were no hand-me-downs, and for the first time in my life I was going to get brand new clothes!  

Mom didn’t simply run out to the store and pick them up between all of her other errands.  She made a special occasion of it.  

So one evening late that summer, dad came home from work to take care of the other kids and Mom, after getting dressed up and putting on her makeup – because that’s what you did in 1965 – , she took me – me alone! – to Hudsons Department Store in downtown Detroit.  And I got to ride in the front passenger seat!  That never happened! 

Now Hudsons at that time was the second largest department store in the world…it had something like 18 floors of merchandise…and it was awe-inspiring!  She bought me shoes, the pants and shirts required, socks and underwear.  And then when the shopping was done we went downstairs to the soda shop on the first floor and we had a treat – I had a rootbeer float and she had an ice-cream sundae.  We talked…just her and I…about who knows what.  

This was so incredible! I was loving being an only child!  It was almost overwhelming!  In fact, it was overwhelming – so overwhelming that on the way home I threw up all over myself.  She wasn’t angry.  She didn’t scold me.  She smiled, put her arm around me and said…’don’t worry…you’re just overstimulated.  It’s fine.’  

When we got home, everyone else had gone to bed.  i took a bath, while she cleaned up the car. I put on my pajamas and cuddled up next to her in the oversized upholstered chair – one she still has in her home today.  She read me a story and as I fell asleep – and, if I’m being honest, I may have started plotting how i could make this only-child situation permanent.  Forgive me Father Joe…She was like that all through our lives.

 

Cough Syrup

Lest you think Mom was a squishy pushover, let me disabuse you of that notion.  As deep as her love and affection was for us, she could also be tough and demanding.  

When I was four years old we lived in Canton Ohio.  One afternoon, while I was suppose to be taking a nap, I decided it might be great fun to go exploring – in the medicine cabinet.  I snuck into the bathroom, opened the cabinet, and found a bottle of cherry cough syrup.  Just a couple weeks earlier I had been given a teaspoon of the stuff and I liked it!  It tasted good! And using the advanced powers of reasoning that only a four year old has mastered,  I figured: if one teaspoon tasted good – well – a whole bottle of it would be even better!  And so I started guzzling that bottle of cough syrup like it was fruit juice.  

Mom must have heard me rummaging around upstairs, because soon the bathroom door flung open and she let out the most blood-curdling shriek I had ever heard.  She grabbed the bottle in one hand, me in the other, then bundled me up into the car, and whisked me off to the emergency room.

The ER doc studied the ingredients on the bottle, asked her how much i had, asked me how much i had then rendered his expert opinion.  “Ellen, I don’t think he had enough to be fatal, so you really don’t have anything to worry about…”

Then he continued

“BUT…we might want to pump out his stomach just to teach him a lesson…”

I looked up at mom with big, hopeful eyes, and without hesitating, she responded

”Do it!  Let’s do it!”

So they shoved an esophageal tube down my throat, strapped me to the bed, and started the pump.  And it hurt.  A lot. And I was crying.  

I looked over at my mom through my teary eyes and thought…

’Wow!’

But you know…it worked!  It did.  It worked really well!  And I don’t mean it saved my life, because that wasn’t even on the table.  I mean i learned my lesson –  two actually.  

The first lesson was the obvious one – never, ever eat anything that didn’t reside in the kitchen.  

But the second lesson was even more profound.  Because that day I learned that this woman who I adored and loved more than anything or anyone in the world, my mom, was not above inflicting pain to achieve behavior modification.  

And that is an incredible lesson to learn as a four year old!   

And it’s a lesson I have never forgotten, even to this day. 

Yes, she could be tough.

I could regale you for hours with so many other stories but time is short.  Simply put, Mom was our everything.  Our nurse, our paramedic, our chauffeur, our teacher, our coach, our cheerleader, our protector, and in later years, our friend.  She did them all gladly.  

One undeniable truth bound all of our lives together –  she loved us, and we loved her. 

.

Thanks

Before I close, on behalf of my siblings,  I’d like to take a few minutes to thank some of the many people who were so important in my mom’s life.

First, to the parish here at Saint John Vianney.  This was her home away from home.  She loved it here.  Her greatest disappointment when covid hit was that she couldn’t get here as she had virtually every week of her life.  Once she was vaccinated, she delighted in being able to return.  To Father Joe and all parishioners, thank you.

To Dr. Stranger and her medical team with Miriam Hospital.  Some of you know that mom battled cancer for nearly twenty-five years.  Her medical team gave Mom not only the gift of life, but also the gift of time, and with that time we created so many more and enduring memories.  

To my sisters: Kathy, Rita and Sue.  All three of my sisters are nurses.  When it became clear that mom’s diagnosis of just a couple weeks ago was terminal, they rushed home to provide round the clock care.  Watching you care for mom in the final days was astonishing, extraordinary and beautiful.  You ensured she had the end of life she wanted. 

And to her neighbors and friends, especially those on Gilbert Court.   Mom wanted to be in her home until her last breath, and you made that happen.  You shoveled snow after every storm, you helped her move her trash bins to the curb, you brought in mail, and you kept an ever watchful eye over her.  All of my siblings join me in thanking you for your kindness.

 

Closing

In closing, I’d like to share one more story that, for me, exemplifies just who my mom was.  

These past few weeks have been tough for all of us, but perhaps they have been hardest for my son Chris and his wife Deanna and their three kids.  You see…as we were preparing for the loss of our mom and their grandma and great-grandma, they were also preparing for the loss of Deanna’s father, Blandy, who was waging his own battle with cancer. 

Every morning I saw Mom the first question she asked was “How is Deanna’s dad doing?”  and just one week ago I had to break the news to her that Blandy had passed away the afternoon before. 

She was heartbroken.  

The next morning, Chris texted me that he was coming to see Grandma one last time.  He arrived a short time later and as he walked into her room, she perked up.  He showed her this beautiful picture that my granddaughter Ciara had made for her, and mom beamed.  

When it was time for him to leave, he leaned over, kissed her and thanked her for everything she had done for them.  Mom told him how proud she was of their beautiful family, that she loved them all. 

Then, she took his hand and said…’please tell Deana that I’ve been praying for her father.  Will you promise me you’ll do that?”  

“I will grandma.  I love you.”  

As he was leaving the house Chris turned back to me and asked “Who does that?  Who in the waning moments of their own life, is praying for someone else?”

I said…”You know, only the most amazing, selfless, compassionate, loving, beautiful person in the world could do that.  And she happens to be your grandma.”

I prefer not to dwell on the sadness of mom’s passing, but rather, hope that we can all celebrate the richness of her life. We will never forget the lessons she taught us — to love fiercely, to face life’s challenges with dignity and courage and grace, and to cherish every moment we are given. She has left an indelible mark on all of us, and her legacy will continue to shine brightly for generations to come.

Thank you for everything you’ve done for us, Mom.  

I  love you. 

And always will.