Today is Mother's Day, 2013.
My mother, Mary Comey, died 17 years ago. Recently I came
across the eulogy that I wrote for her funeral service at Saint
Thomas Church in Villanova , PA.
A Eulogy
It's difficult, in just several minutes, to describe a life
that spanned over three quarters of a century, especially when it's your
mother. Yet there are qualities of Mary Comey that well up strongly in
our memories.
The first of these qualities is determination. For those of
you who didn't know my mother, she stood four foot eleven inches at her prime.
Because of her physical size, some people, especially sales people, mistakenly
assumed that she was small in her determination and her power of will. Each of
us can remember watching her thoroughly exhaust, wear out and wear down
furniture, clothing, appliance, and dozens of other types of sales people as
she artfully used every manner of persuasion to bring them to precisely the
amount that she had determined when she first entered their store. And each of
us frequently found that she worked her persuasive magic just as effectively on
us, usually right after we had declared in a loud voice that we were not going
to budge, that we had made up our minds. There was little that could deter Mary
Comey, not even death. In the last month of her life, when living became just
too physically difficult for her, she convinced God that it was time for her to
come to Him. She wouldn't accept no for an answer, and ever God Himself knew
better than to mess with Mary Comey.
The second of her qualities was a rich love of telling
stories, together with a remarkably creative imagination. All of our lives, we
were treated to the most extraordinary tales by our mother. We heard about a
Nazi spy she met who ran a boarding house in Saint Louis when she followed my
father to the Midwest during World War II; the adventures she had as the
Executive Secretary to the Director of the War Bond Division of the
Philadelphia branch of the Treasury Department when all of the big celebrities
of the day came into town, and the most wild adventures just going to the
corner gas station or food store. When my mother went to the Wawa, almost
anything was possible. It's no wonder that my brothers and I have been directly
involved with the theatre and other media, and that each of us generates our
living in a performance-based profession. It is also no surprise that all of
her grandchildren have found themselves before some kind of artistic, athletic,
or government-related audience. My mother lived life with high drama, and her
legacy is that her children and grandchildren are carrying forward her joy of
sharing their thoughts and feelings with others.
The third quality, and perhaps the one that most exemplifies
and defines my mother's character, was her total devotion to her family. All of her life, she lived within spitting
distance of her brother and her sister. She was fiercely devoted to my father,
John Comey. Other than a forced separation during World War II, my mother and
father were inseparable for half a century. They consulted each other on every
matter, often using their own special and robust form of communication. And for
her three sons, daughters-in-law and grandchildren, she traveled by plane,
train, car, bus or walked up mountains so that she could applaud, cheer and hug
each one of us after every event, regardless of its scope or importance. She
always cried at our ceremonies because she deeply admired our efforts and our
willingness to dare to try.
In a letter that she sent after we surprised my parents with
a 50th anniversary party, my mother wrote, "I love you more than life
itself." We were with her when she died, my father, brothers, and I, her
family together as she wanted throughout her life. We will miss her powerful
presence and her deep caring for our well being and happiness. We love you
deeply, Mother, and ask that you not give God too hard a time if He should dare
to disagree with you.
Copyright (c) 2013 by James Hugh Comey
