my speech at my (24F) mother's (66F) funeral today

Hello everyone,

​My mom and I used to share a wicked sense of humor together. She never thought that her service would be filled and I told her that it would be. For the last time, “I told you so, mom.”

​First, I want to thank Doctor XXXX from Siteman Cancer Center my mother’s oncologist. Six years ago, when she was diagnosed on my brother’s birthday, no less, we embraced each other with tears in our eyes. But my mother assured us that she had the very best doctor who would provide quality care to her in this time. And you did, so thank you. I also want to thank Doctor XXXX. You have been a force for my mother and my family. She always looked to you for guidance, recommendations and trusted you with her health. Thank you so much for that gift.

​As many of you know, a Jewish single woman named XXXX adopted my brother and I from Guatemala. She always wanted to be a mother and wanted to create a family so she did just that. She flew down to adopt Benjamin and I arrived on an airplane. She was ecstatic to meet us and little did we know that we were the lucky ones. Our family constellation always stood out from the crowd: a white, single Jewish mother with two brown skin adopted children from Guatemala in suburban Midwest. However, it was our mother that quickly taught us the importance of the similarities that bind us, not the differences which set us apart. She raised us to embrace diversity and be proud of what we represent. She felt it was her responsibility to work towards embracing diversity for myself and all others in our aspects of our lives. A very important and relevant message still to this day.

​Indeed, my mother had so many friends. That much is obvious. She surrounded herself with beautiful hearts and loving souls. You all were her motivation and support system in this devastating journey. It warms my heart. You all saw her how both my brother and I saw her. She was a beautiful friend who cared immensely about each of you. Thank you for being a light in guiding my mother through the darkness.

​My mother and I were the best of friends. A title she jokingly told me she always wanted. Well you earned that title a very long time ago. You always supported me in chasing my dreams from the moment you adopted me to the moments we shared last week. We spent so much time together in your bed joking and watching television shows. You told me how meaningful it was for you and I promise it was meaningful to me too. Perhaps, even more. You were my Lorelei and I was your Rory and we will always hold an unbreakable bond. My happiest memories will always be with you.

​Over the past six years, I have learned from this journey that the business of being a human is infinitely more fraught that I was led to believe. At times I was frustrated, angry and tried to make sense of all of the hardships that were presented to you. But you impressed me with your courage, bravery and optimism. To this day, I love being able to brag about you and talk to anyone willing to listen about the most fearless person I have ever met.

When I was young and figured out that you and I were not going to die at the exact moment, I told you, “If I had known that, I wouldn’t have agreed to be born.” That says it for me. It’s hard here, and weird. The greatness of love and laughter, the immense pain of loss and suffering, the bearing of one another’s burdens are all mixed up, like the crazy catch-all drawer in the kitchen.

But we do what we can. You showed me what strength looked like, silliness, the ability to be vulnerable and most of all, how to love fiercely. I love you so much mom. I am so glad you left peacefully as Benjamin and I embraced one another. I held down the fort in the hospital while Ben was flying in from Sweden and our relatives from Japan. You were so strong and I know you were so proud of me. You gave me such strength and you were such a fighter.

Our favorite childhood book was “Love you forever.” In the book, the mother sings to her sleeping child: “I’ll love you forever/ I’ll love you for always/ As long as I’m living / My baby you’ll be.” She sings this song to him throughout his life and watching him grow up before her eyes. Then, inevitably, the day comes when she is too old and sick to hold him, and the roles are at last reversed. This sums it up for us mom. I said this to you in the hospital and you smiled at Benjamin and I. Again, I love you forever, I love you for always As long as I’m living, my baby you’ll be.

Sleep easy, mere.