Behind all your stories is always your mother's story BECAUSE hers is where yours begins...
It’s been two years since I lost my mom, Sweet Anne. “Lost” seems like a funny word to say. I lost my car keys yesterday, but I eventually found them. This isn’t just a lost key, something lost can be found again. This is a hole in my heart that I don’t think will ever close. I think about her at least once a day, even more come July. I was raised to believe that July fireworks were happening in honor of Sweet Anne. Mom’s birthday is July 5th. This year she would have been 90 years young. Believe me when I say, I sometimes feel guilty grieving. I'm much luckier than some of my friends, I had my mom for almost 50 years, which I know is a blessing. It still doesn’t make it any easier. I lost my best friend.
When my mom passed, I didn’t fall apart the second she stopped breathing. I was blessed to be surrounded by my husband, 4 kids, my 7 siblings, and their families. Mom passed in the house that I was born in and we were all raised in. Falling apart comes in bits and pieces. I hear a song, see a cardinal in my backyard, or drive down our old street and I feel everything all over again. I still cry, and at random times. I can’t thank my family enough for helping me through this. We definitely have had to lean on each other more than ever before, and we all have become closer because of it.
That early January morning Mom passed, we all gathered in her kitchen and somewhere deep inside me came a voice that announced to my 7 older siblings that I wanted to be the one to say Mom’s eulogy at her funeral mass. In that moment, I had no idea how I was going to pull it off, but what I did know was that I totally owed it to her.
The following is what I hope had my mom smiling down on a packed St. Catharine’s church on a crazy cold, stormy January morning...
Good morning- my name is Liz …
I am proud to say that I am the youngest of Anne’s 8 children.
To start, we want to thank all of you for being here. Mom was a friend to many, a wonderful mother to the 8 of us, and a beloved Nana, cherished by her 22 grandchildren and 3 great grandchildren. There are no words to describe how much Mom meant to all of us, or just how deeply she inspired us and those she cared about.
With that being said, our mom was a force to be reckoned with. She raised us on Salem Avenue along with my dad, her mother, and her father in law. Every night was a sit down dinner for 12. When my siblings reminisce about where their seat at the table was and whether or not it worked for them, I like to remind them that I was in the metal high chair until I was 9... and it was only when grandpa passed away that I was upgraded to the piano bench.
Like many women from her generation, Mom could do it all. She held down a demanding, full time job... never missing a day, raised 8 successful children, and at the same time she could sew a winter coat from scratch, redecorate our home with her own hands, and boy could she belt out one mean rendition of Barbara Streisand’s “People.”
The Crines Clan never got a sick day home from school. A piece of toast and a pat on the back and off you went down Salem Avenue to St. Catharines, and later St. Rose. By age 12, with forged working papers in hand, we were gainfully employed by every restaurant, hotel, and bed and breakfast in Spring Lake.
With 8 children, one could justify the forging of working papers, however, there was no justification for missing Sunday Mass. One Sunday, mom sent all 4 boys to Mass on their bikes, but they somehow ended up at “Our Sisters of 7-11” instead. Apparently, to the boys surprise, our dad attended mass at the same establishment. I can only imagine that solemn bike ride home to face our mom’s disappointment. Sure enough, church bulletins were required to be hand delivered to mom from that Sunday on.
As teachers, Sue and I love this story. One morning, Jimmy ignored our grandfather’s orders to take the garbage out before he went to school. Grandpa promptly called my mom at work and complained. Without hesitation, mom was on the phone with principal Sister Terence Maureen. You can imagine Jimmy’s surprise when it was his name being called over the loudspeaker, as it was quite common to hear, “Michael Crines, please report to the principal’s office”. With a pit in his stomach, Jimmy walked down to the principal’s office and was given strict instructions to walk home, apologize to his grandfather, take the garbage out, and return to class.
Another classic “Sweet Anne” story that always gives us a good chuckle is when Stephen had a bout with food poisoning. Mom called from work to check on him, and upon learning that he wasn’t feeling any better, she told him to hop on his bike and head over to Dr. Cahills office. After a brief check up, Dr. Cahill promptly told Stephen to hop right back on his bike and wait for mom to get home from work so she can take him to the hospital. All 80 pounds of Steve did just what he was told - only to run into Karen and Lonny on his way home. When Karen heard of Steve’s need of hospitalization, she calmly told Steve she would meet him at home while rolling up her car window and around the lake they drove. That part of mom lives on in all of us!
Bob likes to say that he was mom’s favorite, because we all know SHE was definitely HIS!! He loves to remind Steve and I that mom wanted 6 kids - so really, he should be the youngest and we are just “mistakes”. He also loves to tell the story of his birthday. Married and living in Manasquan, Bob went to his mailbox and smiled when he recognized mom’s handwriting on a birthday card. He couldn’t wait to open it, read an encouraging message from mom and get his 20 bucks. Well, to Bobby’s dismay, not only was the money missing- but the card read, “Dear Michael, Happy Birthday! Have a great day. Love,Mom.”.... Bobby is still trying to get that 20 bucks out of Michael.
No one loved her daughters more than our Mom. And the feeling was mutual. She was our best friend and confidant. Over the years, we had developed a great tradition of celebrating each of our birthdays by going out to dinner with just us girls. Spending time together was our favorite thing to do, whether we were sitting on the front porch at Salem Avenue or having dinner together in one of our homes.
Nana’s strength and unconditional love has also influenced each of her grandchildren. They spent summers running to and from the beach, ending each day on Nana’s lawn with a friendly game of “spud” or “running bases”. We spent holidays at 12 Salem, with nana at the head of a very long table. In fact, family parties were so fun at nana’s house that when it was time to leave, the kids would cry, hide, or plead to stay longer. Nana’s love persists through the memories her grandchildren cherish.
If we did turn out okay as Mom liked to say, it was because we knew how much she cared. She taught us so much – growing up in that house was really something special. We all learned lessons in courage as we watched Mom manage a household of twelve and at times under challenging circumstances. Don’t ask me how she did it. All I know is she was always there for you when you needed her most. She had that sixth sense that Mom’s have when their kids are in need – and somehow she would just put aside all of her troubles and make you feel like you were the most important person in her world at that moment. Mom had a way of inspiring each one of us to believe that we could overcome anything – as long as we told the truth and remained loyal to one another. Whatever troubles our parents had to face when we were kids – there was joy in that house – because Mom would have it no other way. We had our share of laughter and tears – but most of all we had the love of an amazing woman. As we say goodbye to her earthly presence, we remember that her legacy lives on in the hearts of her children and grandchildren, as we aspire to love as she loved us.
Goodbye Mom…we love you always and forever.
