I would like to share with you something about mom. It’s not a story or an anecdote or even a specific memory as such. When we all gathered together to discuss with Alan (the celebrant) what could be said today, we did come up with some stories, but we didn’t come up with many. Mom was a very quiet person. She would not often speak about herself nor volunteer information even when questioned. Perhaps she simply didn’t want to speak about herself. I would like to think that she simply preferred to listen.

In my experience mom was never loud, aggressive, demanding or controlling. She was simply there. Father on the other hand was not really someone you would describe as quiet or undemanding. Yet between them they both shared something quite special and through that sharing, and its demonstration, they have given each of us, my brother, my three sisters and myself, a gift so precious that it will stay with us, long past this day; and by the grace of God, we too, may one day be able to pass it on to our children and friends.

Our house was always open. That was dad’s way. And mom, devoted to her partner and friend, was always there to support him. As I said, mom was a very quiet person. She didn’t complain very much, she was not very often in the foreground. But she was, always there. And by this I don’t just mean physically. I mean she was always “there”, “present” for us. Accepting us, as we were, regardless of the strife and mischief we got ourselves embroiled in. Yes there was the occasional reprimand, or scolding, but never ever, was there even a hint of rejection. Mom (and dad) loved us, despite all our periods of rebellion and intolerance.

Love is a funny word for we tend to use it very loosely, getting it mixed up with things like excitement, duty, sacrifice, and pain and all sorts of other mixed emotions and behaviours. There was certainly a fair bit of that in our parents’ lives, and although I am grateful for being the beneficiary of that toil of “love”, it’s not “that idea of love” that I think of when I speak of their love, for each other, or for us, or indeed for the extended “Hale Family” of adopted children and grandchildren. The Love that I speak of was reflected in that very precious gift of acceptance they gave to all of us, without which all the toil and struggle and effort would have meant nought. Mum wasn’t perfect, none of us are, but in that acceptance that she was able to demonstrate nearly all the time, she taught us the perfection that is Love.

And so even though we gather here today to say goodbye. To remember things, little and big. And even though we all know and accept that as time goes on we will remember less of the details, I know we can be assured of one thing that will never grow dim. It’s the warmth we will feel in our hearts when we remember being fully accepted. The warmth we will feel when we demonstrate it ourselves. And in the glow of that warmth, mom will be there, with dad, smiling.