Homily for My Mom, +Carolyn Marie Winterling Dore

Homily for the Funeral of My Mom, +Carolyn Marie Winterling Dore

September 17, 2018

Friar Timothy P. Dore, OFM Conv.

(Readings: Wisdom 3:1-6, 9, Romans 8:31b-35, 37-39, and Matthew 5: 1-12a)

Before I say anything, I want to thank Bishop Madden for being present today for my mom’s funeral.  Bishop Madden: Thank you so much!  My family and I are very grateful.  I also want to thank Friar Michael Heine, the Vicar Provincial of the Our Lady of the Angels Province.  He’s here to represent the friars of the Province, and our Minister Provincial, Friar James McCurry, who expressed his regrets about not being able to be here.  I’m also thankful to the friar-priests and the friar-brothers of my Franciscan community who are here.  And for the presence the other priests who are here as well.  I’d like to thank Fr. Patrick Carrion, the Pastor of Our Lady of Good Counsel.  Patrick: Thank you for your warm welcome and hospitality; it’s very much appreciated.

I also wish to thank the religious sisters who are here, particularly the Missionaries of Charity, the Sisters Servants of Mary Immaculate from St. Joseph’s Nursing Home, Sr. Carol Woods, a member of the Franciscan Missionary Sisters of Assisi and Sr. Susan Engel, a member of the Mission Helpers of the Sacred Heart.

Of course, my family is very grateful for the presence here of the members of our extended family, and all our dear friends.

My mom would be very pleased to know all of you have come here to pray with us at this difficult moment.

And now, I’d like to ask all the nurses present here today, and I know there are many of you, to please stand [pause].  As you know, my mom was very proud of her long nursing career, and my brother and sisters and I always believed we were very fortunate to have a Registered Nurse for a mother!   And so, now honoring her memory and the career she loved, I’d like to say a special thank you to all these nurses.  Your lives of service to those in need are an inspiration to all of us!  Thank you so much!

As you know, my mom suffered for a long time with the debilitating effects of Alzheimer’s disease.  Several years ago, and at first, my mom struggled with various levels of dementia and she and my dad tried to continue living their normal lives together and in retirement in Ocean City.  But after things became most difficult for them in the home, it became necessary for my mom to enter St. Joseph’s Nursing Home, where she lived for the past two and a half years.

Of course, my mom didn’t want to enter nursing home care.  Who would?  At first, she was very resistant to her new reality of life at St. Joe’s.  She begged my father and all of us to take her home, but of course that wasn’t possible.

Eventually my mom adjusted to life there, and she coped best by identifying herself by what she was: A Dedicated Nurse!  In fact, there’s no doubt in that health care environment my mom found a place where she was very much “at home.”  And so, she would often inform us she had taken on “a job” as a nurse there.  The sisters and the staff at St. Joe’s were more than happy to accommodate my mom’s nursing impulse.  With great deference, they began to call her “Nurse Carolyn,” and they very kindly allowed her to give “advice” about this or that nursing question.  And all that provided her with a sense of purpose; it also dignified her by affirming her indelible nurse’s identity.  We’ll always be grateful to St. Joe’s for allowing my mom “to work” there!  It gave my mom a tremendous amount of consolation and peace as she battled the brutal and unrelenting assault of Alzheimer’s.

As time went on, it was very difficult for my dad, for me and for my other family members to watch as my mom’s health steadily declined.  The past few months were particularly difficult as she gradually lost her ability to feed herself, to walk, and even to speak coherently.  We all became accustomed to my mom’s use of the word “beads,” interjected into her sentences, as she labored to express her thoughts.  This was very painful for all of us to experience, and there’s no doubt it was most frustrating for my mom.

With all of this in mind, I’d like to share with you two remarkable and related events I recently experienced with my mom.

Three months ago, my mom was still capable of walking the halls at St. Joe’s, however at that point she had more-or-less lost her ability to express her thoughts clearly.  On one of my visits during that time, we spent some time walking laps around the halls there.  I spoke to her about my work, about our family members, and about how good it was for me to spend that time with her.  Then, all the sudden she stopped walking, and she turned and looked me in the eye and she said to me in the clearest and most coherent voice possible: “Are you going to be okay?”  Amazed by the clarity of her question, I responded: “Yes, mom, all will be well!”

And then, for the past month or so, and other than an occasional and kind of mumbled “yes” or “no” in response to questions, my mom didn’t speak very much at all. Often, the sense of defeat was very evident on her face as she unsuccessfully tried to utter words and sentences.  It was heartbreaking to watch.

One evening last week, as my mom lay sleeping and I sat at her bedside, Nurse Christine came in the room to check on her.  She was one of my mom’s favorite nurses, and I know Christine loved my mom as well.  As I sat there, she checked my mom’s temperature, adjusted her pillows, and tried to make her more comfortable.  For a few moments, we spoke very softly and quietly about my mom’s sickness, and about how awful Alzheimer’s is.  I told Christine about how three months earlier my mom had, in a moment of clarity and so surprisingly, asked me if I “was going to be okay.”  I told her how I had assured my mom that “all would be well!”  Christine thanked me for sharing the story and she encouraged me “to hold on to the memory.”  She said she had heard similar stories from others during her years of nursing work.

Then, the very moment Christine left the room, and much to my utter surprise, my mom opened her eyes, lifted her head off the pillow a bit, and then she looked me straight in the eye again, and she asked me with total clarity and command of her voice: “Are you sure?”  I answered: “Yes mom, I’m okay and all will be well.”  She then grinned from ear to ear, and resting her head again on the pillow, closed her eyes and went back to sleep.  Apparently, she had been listening to the conversation Christine and I had been having, and she wanted to "weigh-in" on what we had discussed!  Utterly amazed, and before leaving that evening, I was sure to share the follow-up story with a very grateful Christine!

Those two remarkable moments when my mom spoke to me so clearly proved to me, even as she suffered in the throes of those dreadful effects of Alzheimer’s, that her motherly concern and care for me remained strong.  And so, I will always be grateful to God she was miraculously and so poignantly still able to communicate some of her thoughts to me!

As I contemplate those two incredible moments now, I’m compelled to believe my mom’s words not only demonstrated her love for me, they also came from someone who was dedicated to nursing and who cared greatly for others.  And not only that, I’m sure my mom’s dedication to nursing was motivated by her strong Christian faith, one that placed great value on service to others, especially to those who were the neediest.  As a nurse, and I’m sure the other nurses here today have all done the same, my mom worked tirelessly as she sought to give hope to those who were suffering.  And that’s what she was all about!  And so, I have no doubt that in the many years my mom served as an R.N., she would often encourage her patients with statements like “You’re going to be okay!” and “I’m sure all will be well!”  These sentiments were certainly echoed in the very brief conversations we recently and so wondrously had, as we spoke nearly the same words to each other.

And that brings us to this moment.

Today when this Funeral Mass began, members of our family, represented by my nieces and nephews, placed this white cloth over my mom’s casket.  It’s meant to remind us of the day she was baptized, and of the baptismal gown she wore on that day.  This is the garment of Christ, and it’s what we all hope to be wearing when we enter heavenly glory!  I know that’s what my mom hoped for all her life.  And this is because a little more than eighty years ago, and not long after she was born, my mom’s parents Joseph and Marie gave her the Christian faith.  I like to think that what we’ve done today is a parallel to what my mom’s parents did when they brought their baby Carolyn into this same church back then, and as they celebrated her baptism.  I’m sure there was a lot of joy on that day; they probably even went back to their house on Woodall Street here in Locust Point and they celebrated with a festive party!  Although perhaps contrarily saddened today, we’ve brought her to the other bookend, that’s to say, “the opposite side of the same story.”  As her family brought her to this church on the day of her baptism, we her family now bring her to church to celebrate her life, her faith, and the fulfillment of the promises made to her and for her by her parents on that day!

And so, as people of faith we can also take comfort in the words from the Scriptures we’ve heard during my mom’s funeral today.

The first reading from the Book of Wisdom proclaimed to us: “The souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them . . . they seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction . . . but they are in peace” (see Wisdom 3:1-3).  My mom is still very much alive.  She is also now freed from the chains of Alzheimer’s and all of the affliction it caused her and all of us!  Therefore “she’s okay!” and we can be sure “all is well!”

In the second reading from the Letter to the Romans, St. Paul says: “What will separate us from the love of Christ?  Will anguish, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or the sword?  No, in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord” (see Romans 8:35, 37-39).  And so we can be sure that nothing has been able to separate my mom from God’s eternal loving embrace: not sickness, not Alzheimer’s, not trials, not tribulations!  Therefore “she’s okay!” and we can be sure “all is well!”

And in the Gospel reading from the Sermon on the Mount we heard those beautiful words of Jesus when he proclaimed the “Beatitudes” (see Matthew 5:1-12a).  As a nurse, as my dad’s wife, as our mother, as a grandmother, as a sister and an aunt, as a friend and a neighbor, I’m completely certain my mom lived these admonitions well.  By the way she lived her life, and as she spent her career as a care-giver, Nurse Carolyn surely knew what it meant to be poor in spirit, meek, merciful, a peacemaker, and there’s no doubt she was a person who had a hunger and a thirst for holiness and righteousness.  Therefore, Mom we know “you’re okay!” and we’re sure that now for you “all is well!”

Mom: Thanks for being such wonderful model of faith to all of us. We your family members are also proud of your great nursing career!  Indeed, how fortunate we were to have YOU as our mother!  And so, Nurse Carolyn: Thanks for showing us by your example that we too as Christians are called to be people who place ourselves in service to God by the way we serve others.  Mom: Your life of service to those in need will always be an inspiration to us!  And we will always be eternally grateful to you!  We love you!

Amen.