How Our Deceased Come Alive and Make Us Smile.

Recently, my family honored the anniversary of my Mom’s death.  At the same time, our nation is struggling to cope with the ever-growing count of coronavirus deaths.  It made me sadly realize that these deaths were persons once loved just like my mother. 

Like them, my mom once laughed, loved, hugged, cried, cooked, and is sadly missed.  Suddenly, those who lost loved ones to Covid 19, their grief, their loss and their emptiness came tumbling down on me and I felt first-hand their sorrow and pain.  Death is so permanent and disruptive to family life.

I still think of my mom, but her memory now brings a slight smile to my face, because I remember something she said or achieved that is unforgettable.  Here is one noteworthy memory, but first a little background.

As a twelve-year-old Italian immigrant, my mom arrived with this maxim engraved on her heart: Share what you can. Meaning matters more than your gift. She believed enthusiastically that opportunities often surfaced buried gifts.

My mom’s story begins just after I left home to enter the Oblates’ seminary and my father started his company.  As with all new companies, financial struggles followed.  The Oblates at that time decided to add an addition to the building that was my new home.

My parents felt obligated to help, but had few resources to do something. My mother’s timely maxim came to play: Share what you can. Meaning matters more than your gift.

Since a monetary gift was impossible, my mother’s creativity came alive. She would sell her spaghetti sauce.  My mom was definitely a fine cook, but could she do this?  And so, her great adventure began.  She gathered extended family and friends and their friends to buy her sauce prepared for Easter dinner at $2.00 per jar.

Soon the house hummed with activity, my two sisters, aunts, friends worked to prepare her recipe.  They feverishly worked to bottle her special sauce for two hundred jars.  When Palm Sunday arrived, the jars were ready for delivery.  Meanwhile, the limited supply and my mom’s story spread, and so did demand for her coveted sauce.

In her grandson’s red wagon, she delivered the jars within our neighborhood.  My aunts and uncles used their cars to handle the rest.  She sold all 200 jars and with donations she collected over $1,000 dollars.  Although it wasn’t enough to complete the building, her generosity and her spirit helped others to pitch in and donate.

This story about my mom still makes me smile.  And yes, opportunities do often surface buried gifts.  We simply need to supply our time and energy to do the digging.  The results may seem small.  However, small gifts often take up the most room in our hearts. My mom’s fervor  did that in retelling the story, then and even now.  She lives through this story.  Aren’t you smiling too?

 We all have gifts and opportunities which can give life.  Soon we will hear the inspired stories arising from loved ones who succumbed to the corona virus.  Their telling  will put a smile on your face, life to their memory, and inspiration to all who listen.  My mom’s still does!

Share what you can. Meaning matters more than your gift!