A final tribute
Memorializing my mother on the pages of this blog for the last month has really been therapeutic for me. Everyone grieves differently, and this outlet to journal and share some of those experiences has certainly helped me in that process.
Her funeral was January 9, 2009. The four days between her passing and that Friday were filled with stress and angst as you can imagine. As I mentioned, my sister took the lead for our family and we did the necessary things that had to be done to assure that this day would be exactly what mom would have wanted. From the pecan casket with musical note trim to the Catholic Church being reserved to the wake that followed, we were sure it was.
My mother was not born Catholic. She did not spend most of her life Catholic. However, her pursuit of God, desire to have a better understanding of him, and study of Theology led her to convert just a few months before her death. The funeral was a reflection of that. The Church was beautiful, with the kind of painting, artwork, and architecture you would expect to find in an ancient Roman Civilization rather than a small town in the midwest. As we sat there in the first row of pews, we watched the priest. Suddenly, we realized he was giving our family hand signals. See, my Dad is Jewish. And our family was raised Pentecostal. None of us had any idea when to stand, or sit, or kneel according to the Catholic tradition. And our friends and family who were of that faith were sitting behind us. That moment, when he gave us the "up" sign and the chuckles could be heard echoing through the building, was the exact kind of moment my mom would have loved and told stories about for years.
The wake was a great time of fellowship with family and friends, sharing memories and stories and celebrating her life. I have written about what I said there, and about the others who spoke as well. There were so many people and it was amazing to me that she had touched all of them in some way. It was a fitting tribute to her.
Linda Hodge Bromberg was born February 22, 1954 in Gallipolis, Ohio to George Marce and Eula Grace Hodge. She was the oldest of four children. In 1971 She gave birth to her first child, Angelia. In 1973, I came along, followed by Joshua in 1979. She was married and divorced twice, and spent much of our early childhood working 2 or 3 jobs to make sure we were taken care of. In 1986 she married her soulmate, my Dad, Michael Bromberg. She pursued higher education and had accomplished a bachelors and masters degree before she passed. 10 grandchildren and one great grandchild called her Nana by January 0f 2009, with another grand daughter (Linda Rose Bromberg) and another great grandchild born since. She is survived not only by the above listed people but by her father, two brothers, and a sister, and by my Dad's siblings who considered her one of their own. She was a kind spirit, warm heart, and devoted friend. She was a Mother, a Nana, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a student, a teacher, a mentor, a hero, an inspiration, a voice of reason, a shoulder to lean on, a sharp critic, a strong advisor, an advocate, and a friend. My friend. My best friend. So many people would tell you the same thing. She is missed and loved by all who knew her.
Thank you so much for allowing me to share the memories of this time of my life with you.
Her funeral was January 9, 2009. The four days between her passing and that Friday were filled with stress and angst as you can imagine. As I mentioned, my sister took the lead for our family and we did the necessary things that had to be done to assure that this day would be exactly what mom would have wanted. From the pecan casket with musical note trim to the Catholic Church being reserved to the wake that followed, we were sure it was.
My mother was not born Catholic. She did not spend most of her life Catholic. However, her pursuit of God, desire to have a better understanding of him, and study of Theology led her to convert just a few months before her death. The funeral was a reflection of that. The Church was beautiful, with the kind of painting, artwork, and architecture you would expect to find in an ancient Roman Civilization rather than a small town in the midwest. As we sat there in the first row of pews, we watched the priest. Suddenly, we realized he was giving our family hand signals. See, my Dad is Jewish. And our family was raised Pentecostal. None of us had any idea when to stand, or sit, or kneel according to the Catholic tradition. And our friends and family who were of that faith were sitting behind us. That moment, when he gave us the "up" sign and the chuckles could be heard echoing through the building, was the exact kind of moment my mom would have loved and told stories about for years.
The wake was a great time of fellowship with family and friends, sharing memories and stories and celebrating her life. I have written about what I said there, and about the others who spoke as well. There were so many people and it was amazing to me that she had touched all of them in some way. It was a fitting tribute to her.
Linda Hodge Bromberg was born February 22, 1954 in Gallipolis, Ohio to George Marce and Eula Grace Hodge. She was the oldest of four children. In 1971 She gave birth to her first child, Angelia. In 1973, I came along, followed by Joshua in 1979. She was married and divorced twice, and spent much of our early childhood working 2 or 3 jobs to make sure we were taken care of. In 1986 she married her soulmate, my Dad, Michael Bromberg. She pursued higher education and had accomplished a bachelors and masters degree before she passed. 10 grandchildren and one great grandchild called her Nana by January 0f 2009, with another grand daughter (Linda Rose Bromberg) and another great grandchild born since. She is survived not only by the above listed people but by her father, two brothers, and a sister, and by my Dad's siblings who considered her one of their own. She was a kind spirit, warm heart, and devoted friend. She was a Mother, a Nana, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a student, a teacher, a mentor, a hero, an inspiration, a voice of reason, a shoulder to lean on, a sharp critic, a strong advisor, an advocate, and a friend. My friend. My best friend. So many people would tell you the same thing. She is missed and loved by all who knew her.
Thank you so much for allowing me to share the memories of this time of my life with you.
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