Eulogy for My Mom
by her favorite daughter, Ronda
Hi everyone,
Thank you all for being here today to celebrate the incredible, unforgettable, hilariously inappropriate, and deeply loving woman that was my mom. Now, before I say anything else, I need to get the record straight: I was her favorite. I know we’re not supposed to say that, but let’s be honest... she never exactly denied it. So I’m just doing my duty here today. Sorry, not sorry. It's okay Tommy she was quite fond of you too.
My mom was one of a kind. She loved hard, laughed loud, and sang even louder, completely off-key, tone-deaf, and with absolutely zero shame about it. I mean, let’s be real, if vocal talent were required to sing “Happy Birthday,” none of us in the family would be sung to. But, that never stopped her. In fact, she shamelessly dragged more of us into the musical reign of terror. First me, then my dad, and then my poor husband, and we increased the number of people subjected to suffer through it. We added all the grandkids into the list of calls to make every year. A family tradition I intend to carry on in her honor. So don't think your reign of terror is over Dad, we still have ears to burn and brains to melt. I’m convinced “America’s Got Talent” would’ve been calling... if she hadn’t gotten sick. But even that didn't stop her, she sang up to her last day on Earth. She is probably singing to the big man upstairs right now, making up her goofy songs.
My mom was also the biggest Elvis fan on the planet. I’m pretty sure she loved Elvis more than she loved my dad, though to be fair, Elvis did wear blue suede shoes, and knew how to shake them hips. And then there was Lucy. I Love Lucy was my mom incarnate. I swear she was Lucy in a past life, the sass, the off-key singing, her funny escapades, it all lined up. She collected every Lucy doll from every episode. From the chocolate factory, to the winery smashing grapes, and even the Vita-veta-vegamin girl. Every time I look at those dolls I will remember the joy they brought to her.
But beyond the jokes and the goofy songs, my mom had the biggest heart. She could out-love, out-give, and out-care anyone. She didn’t just show up for the big stuff, she was there for everything. Every call, every crisis, every stupid little thing we needed. I still remember the morning after my 21st birthday, let’s just say it was... rough. I was crying for my mommy, like I always do when I'm sick. I looked and felt like a wet bag of regret, and guess who shows up? My mom. Knocking at my door with abundigas soup, (the hangover cure) and a carafe of orange juice like some kind of magical soup wizard. No judgment, just love, and a little laughing at my self inflicted pain and misery. But no matter what the case may be, she was there for me/us. Along with her favorite chauffeur, my dad. Lol
She had this amazing way of loving each of us differently but deeply. And she didn’t just love us, she made everyone feel seen. She had a way of making people laugh without trying, of slipping in a hilariously inappropriate comment at just the right time, and of making each person feel like they were her favorite—though again, we know that title belongs to me. (It’s fine, really.)
Mom, I want to say thank you. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything you’ve done for me—for being there in every single moment I needed you. For loving me when I was unlovable, for guiding me when I was lost, and for never judging me even when I was clearly being ridiculous. You were my safe place. My biggest cheerleader. My personal comedian. My rock.
Even in your last months, you never lost that light. You were in pain, but somehow still cracking jokes, still singing those ridiculous songs, still making us feel better. You had this beautiful way of lighting up a room through it all. That was your magic. For Tommy, it was those imaginary drum cymbals in the air. For Dad, it was teasing him mercilessly because he couldn’t hear the TV at volume level 50. For me, it was singing “I love you” every single night in that beautifully painful voice of yours that somehow made everything better—even when it made your ears bleed a little.
I miss you more than I can say. I miss your voice. I miss your hugs. I miss you teasing Dad with that “What? Huhhh?” routine that still makes me—and him—laugh out loud. I miss your off-key serenade, And I miss giving your beautiful face kisses every night.
I’ll carry your love with me every day, and I’ll do my best to live the way you did, with kindness, humor, and just the right amount of chaos. Because the world is a better place when we all act a little more like you.
So thank you, Mom. For everything. For the soup. For the songs. For the love. For making our lives brighter, funnier, and so much fuller.
I love you forever and always.
Your favorite daughter,
Ronda
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