Written for her eulogy March 26, 1992…still missing you

A letter from your daughter

 Dear Mom,

 As I sit and write this letter to you I feel myself becoming a little girl again, returning to a simpler time when faith came easier and magic was a part of every day.  There was always something magic about our home.  The magic that made the walls of our little house expand so that no matter how may people came to the door there was always room for one more.  The magic of our kitchen table that always had enough food for one more.  The magic of those Polish words and your unique phrases that kept us kids in line—or at least laughing.  And the magic of you and dad, that no matter how bad things got you were there for each other.

 Yet by far the most powerful images that come to me are the memories of stumbling behind you in your garden—planting, watering, pruning, and weeding.  Through your great love of the earth and its flowers and the great care you took in your garden, you offered us trust and hope and faith in the seasons of life.  It was your faith in the seed as  we put it in the earth in the spring that the beautiful blossoms of summer would come;  your faith in pruning and weeding–the cutting back–a process that seemed so painful yet was so necessary; your faith in the earth and sun and rain to provide for your garden along with your care, and the joy you felt as you walked barefoot in the morning dew, that gave me such a deep appreciation of the goodness of God.  It was in your garden that you would tell me that God hears our prayers no matter where we are–whether in a church or in the field.  You gave a truly Living God to me.

 We came a long way from our days together in the garden.  The bouquets that were always springing from there became fewer and finally ceased as the years took their toll on you.  It felt as though God was not hearing your prayers anymore as your body failed you, your eyes grew dimmer and you suffered such tremendous loss and pain from the unanswered prayers for Larry and Dad.  But I see now, in that awareness that comes at the death of someone we love so deeply, that it was your final lesson to us on the seasons of Life.  We have learned the lessons of winter–those cold, dark, barren moments that seem as though they will never end and our faith is tested to its limit.

 But the spring has come.  The ground is thawing.  The robins are returning.  The crocuses are springing up in your backyard.  It seems only right that we should lay your body in the ground in the Spring.  We will do it with the same faith that you planted your seeds in the Spring–knowing that your soul is now free to blossom in heaven with those you loved the most.  What a beautiful garden it must be, and we cannot help but share the peace and joy you must be feeling now.

 We love you Katie and thank you for the love you gave us for so many years.  We look forward to the time when we are all singing together in your garden again.