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A Tribute to Patricia R. Shomon
Eulogy for My Mother, from Mary Shomon
Eulogy for My Mother, from Mary Shomon
Patricia R. Shomon
November 22, 1938 - January 30, 2003
I lost my mother on January 30, 2003, after her more than two-year battle with lung cancer. I was privileged to be with her during her last weeks, providing hospice care along with my family at my mother's home in Florida. My mother was strong, courageous, amazing, and had a peaceful transition, thanks to her own strength, and the help of the amazing people from the Hospice of the Suncoast. The following is the tribute to my mother that I gave at her funeral.
It's a privilege and honor to be able to tell you a little bit about my mother, Patricia Shomon. Pat has always said that she wasn't a complicated person, and that is true. She didn't complicate her life, or her relationships, and frankly, most things she did, she made them look easy. But Pat wore many different hats during her lifetime -- daughter, sister, career woman, wife, mother, grandmother, friend. (Those of you who knew her well will also remember that she always looked great in hats!) But what I really want to say is, I am the daughter of a woman who never stopped growing and changing in her 64 years.
In the beginning, my mother was a devoted daughter to her parents, Daniel and Connie, as well as a fan and champion of her older brother Danny. She was always so proud of her parents and brother and their accomplishments. She spoke many times of her father's World War II service, her mother's nursing career in Bayonne, and her brother's fame in local sports and music. But more than just accomplishments, my mother said above all, she always felt very loved and cherished by her family. It's only fitting that in her last days, Pat described quite eloquently and lucidly how her departed mother had come to see her. Those of us who were with her at the end have no doubt that my grandmother came to lovingly bring my mother home with her.
My mother started her life as a career woman quite young. She had various executive jobs starting at the young age of 16, and there was nothing that energized my mother quite as much as putting on a smart suit, red lipstick, a pair of heels, and being in charge at the office. By the time she was 20, she was a human resources manager for Sears. Throughout the years, she has had many interesting jobs, including working for the Office for the Aging in Yonkers, running her own cosmetics business, as Human Resources director for a hospital in Fort Worth, and most recently, running my health publishing company from her home in Florida.
There's a saying that there are two kinds of people in the world: those who do the work, and those who take the credit. And we should try to be in the first group, because there's much less competition. My mother was definitely in the first group -- she was one of the people who did the work. She always gravitated most towards the jobs that involved helping others. Whether it was volunteering in politics or the community, or jobs that involved service to the community, her heart and soul found the greatest satisfaction when she was doing for others.
It was as a 20 year old at her job at Sears that my mother met my father, Dan. She's always said that from the minute she met him, she thought he was handsome, kind, and fun to be with. And I know he has always thought she is pretty spectacular herself! After 42 years of marriage, I don't think that changed a bit. It's not often you find two people who fall in love, and stay in love as much as my parents. My mother and father have always referred to each other as "my boyfriend" and "my girlfriend," and I don't think the excitement and butterflies in the stomach ever went away for either of them. What seemed mushy and made me go "ewwwww" as a child is now evidence of an amazing relationship I can only try to aspire to.
If you asked my mother, she'd tell you that one of her greatest accomplishments was being a mother. And she was truly the best. Hodding Carter has said: "There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One is roots; the other, wings." I know my brother Dan would agree with me that our mother gave us strong, loving roots. We knew where we came from, and where we belonged. But she truly gave us wings -- the time and freedom to explore what we wanted to be, and the unconditional support and confidence to grow into ourselves. She had so much to share as a mother, even now. One of the things I will miss most is my mother's sensible and common-sense advice about raising my daughter.
My mother always told me that even if I never had children, she would always feel I was still complete. But she said she'd never imagined the great joy it would be when she finally had a grandchild, my daughter. She has enjoyed and adored her granddaughter, and it's amazing how much of Pat we can see in my daughter. For example, ever since she was a toddler, my daughter has always wanted to get up and dance, just like Grandma, and she shares her grandmother's love for jazzy shoes of all colors and styles. My mother's only regret in her last days was that she worried that her granddaughter will forget her. So I will ask you all to help me grant my mother that last wish -- and ensure that my daughter never forgets the grandmother who loves her so.
Many of you here are friends -- long, long-time friends -- of my mother. Loyalty, trust and love for her friends seemed second nature for my mother, didn't it? When she made you her good friend, she didn't give you up easily, if ever, as those of you who have known her for 30 and 40 years or more can attest.
Not only was she a loyal friend, but Pat was also a whole lot of fun...always the first on the dance floor (and pretty good at it too!) , or ready to belt out a song, or whip up some appetizers or a pot of coffee for a late night gab session...All she needed for a great time was a glass of wine, good music, and above all, friends. I know many of you have wonderful memories of such good times with my mother, whether in New York, New Jersey, or in Texas, or poolside in Florida, at the beach, at restaurants, traveling. So, as her friends, next time you have a glass of good red wine, please drink a toast to Pat. She'd like that.
My mother's relationship to God and the divine has been one of the most essential aspects of her life. Last year, as I was struggling with concern over my mother's illness, she wrote me a quite beautiful letter. In it, she explained so clearly how religion helped her. She said: "Religion is a real comfort for me. It make me unafraid of the unknown, it takes away complications." She truly approached death with grace and courage.
In her letter to me, she wrote: "My concern is for the people here and now that have to go through the anquish of losing someone, that is very difficult. But there is so much beauty in life and if you think of the positive great things that have occurred in the person's life and how they love and are loved, how can you feel sad all the time. Happiness is never as sweet without the sadness first."
Dorothy Bernard said that "Courage is fear that has said its prayers." Pat must have been praying quite a bit, because she did have amazing courage throughout her illness. In her last weeks, she kept OUR morale up. She helped guide us toward acceptance, she provided comfort to us. She was a true inspiration, and it was her faith, and her peace with herself and God that allowed her to go toward the next life without fear or regrets.
Finally, I'd like to leave you with a few more of Pat's own words. In the past year, she's been writing up a journal of memories to give to my daughter. And on the last page, my mother listed what she felt were three her greatest accomplishments in life.
- A continuous love of God
- A deep, sincere relationship and love with a very special man who, as she said, "made my socks roll up and down," and
- Children who are accomplished adults making the earth a better place to live
With those words, my mother left this earth with joy, pride, courage, love, and even gratitude in her heart.
Elisabeth Kubler-Ross has said: "People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within." My mother had that light, and it shines on us today.
~ Mary J. Shomon, February 5, 2003
To find out more about hospice, see: Hospice Information, and Introduction to Hospice. Find out more about the Hospice of the Suncoast, or if you'd like to donate to them, click here.
All information is intended for your general knowledge only and is not a substitute for medical advice or treatment for specific medical conditions. You should seek prompt medical care for any specific health issues and consult your physician or health practitioner before starting a new treatment program. Please see our full disclaimer.