Good morning. For those who don’t know me, my name is Ryan, and I am the son of Darlene. First, on behalf of me and my mom’s family, especially her dear husband Dave, her daughter Kelly, and her sister Pat, I want to express our sincere thanks and appreciation for taking time out of your day to be here today. This has been a very difficult couple of weeks for all of us, and your words, texts, emails, cards, visits, food, flowers, and presence have brought us tremendous comfort and healing.
Before we begin our service today, I wanted to take a few moments to reflect on my mom’s extraordinary life and express my gratitude for the amazing mom that she was.
Mom was born on August 27, 1945 to John and Jean. She grew up in a townhome on Gelston Drive in west Baltimore with her big sister Pat. One of the childhood memories that my mom cherished was listening to her daddy singing “You Are my Sunshine” to help put her to sleep at night. This was a memory that she enjoyed sharing with my sister and me, as she rocked us to sleep when she became a parent. She and her sister were daddy’s girls and absolutely adored him. Unfortunately, the sunshine of my mom’s life, her darling father, passed away at 44 years old, when my mom was only 9. It was a situation that devastated her family. The now family of 3 struggled through very difficult times, barely having enough money to put food on the table.
These challenges shaped the person my mom would become, never taking anything (or anyone) for granted, being exceedingly careful with money, and always appreciating the little things in life. In 1971, she turned 26 and got married to the man she would spend the next 52 years of her life with, my dad, Dave. They were married on December 4 of that year. It was a unification of two spirits that were destined to be together.
My mom made a beautiful wife, bearing a resemblance to the actress Barbara Eden, famous for her role in the sitcom, I Dream of Jeannie. Mom was Dad’s “Jeannie” in a bottle, and in a somewhat joking manner, he introduced her to his family as “Jeannie.” Mom certainly didn’t mind, nor did the rest of the family, as that was the name she became known as for the entire Kennedy clan for the rest of her life. In fact, when I was an altar server in this very church, one of the priests asked me to remind him of my mom’s name. I told him, “Her name is Darlene, but most people call her Jeannie.” Although she had heard the name “Jeannie” for years, I still think she was a bit surprised a few minutes later during the Eucharist when the priest said, “Jeannie, the body of Christ.”
When it came to work, Mom’s career spanned multiple years, working primarily in the insurance industry. However, by the 1980s, I like to think there is a role she was even more proud to take on – and something at which she excelled – and that was becoming a mom. She put her entire career on hold to be a stay-at-home mom for my sister and me.
Having a mom around throughout my childhood allowed me to formulate so many amazing memories. I remember pulling up to the lunch counter in Woolworth’s to grab a bite to eat – usually a grilled cheese sandwich for me and possibly a BLT for her. Or, we would stop by the popcorn stand at Kmart to snack on some freshly-popped kernels. And if things were taking too long, I would hide in the circular clothes racks in the big department stores until mom started worrying that I had been kidnapped.
She was a great mom. She knew how to strike just the right balance between letting my sister and me make our own choices and setting us on a path to success. She and my dad made many sacrifices in their life to give Kelly and me the best life possible. Even though it could be rough, she never complained. In fact, it was rare to hear her complain about anything. Well, except politics. As I can personally attest to, once you got her on that platform, you had to buckle in for a couple hours of political talk.
Some of the most memorable times our family spent together was at the shore. In the early 1980s, my parents were introduced to a little 100-year old cabin that was offered to be rented on the banks of the Elk River in North East, Maryland. My parents continued to rent that same cabin for the next 43 years. We spent nearly every summer weekend there, and it was here that my mom developed a love for crabbing. My parents would wake early in the morning to bait a trot line with fermented (and I do mean fermented) eel and chicken necks. Dad was the captain, and my mom was his first mate, scooping in sometimes bushels of crabs throughout a long day of crabbing along the Elk. They often shared their bounty with everyone they continuously invited to the shore with them. The shore became not only a respite, but also a place for gatherings. My parents hosted countless family gatherings, filling the cabin with brothers, sisters, cousins, nieces, nephews, in-laws, friends, and extended family. There’s rarely a time I can recall when there wasn’t someone else at the shore. For them, everyone was welcome.
In 2011, Mom adopted a new title that she cherished: Grandmom. She adored spending time with her grandchildren, Alex and Katie, and watching them play in the same waters on the Elk that Kelly and I did as children. She also made every effort to attend their baseball games, dance recitals, and concerts for band, orchestra, and chorus.
Over the past few months, however, these outings became more difficult, as she struggled with her own health issues. When she passed last week, it took all of us by surprise, because she had always just “been there.” However, we take comfort in knowing that she got exactly what she wanted, passing away peacefully, at home, in her bed, with her ‘hon’ for life by her side. The sunshine of my dad’s life had now gone out.
Mom is going to be missed, and the weeks and months ahead will be difficult. Tomorrow represents opening weekend at the shore, and it will be the first time in over 40 openings where Dad won’t have his crabbing companion by his side. And there will be moments out of the blue that will trigger memories and reflections, whether it’s seeing a package of marshmallow Circus Peanuts or a bottle of Diet Peach Snapple or a rerun of the Golden Girls. I’m going to miss so many things. I’m going to miss her scented candles. I’m going to miss the times we talked about watching Unsolved Mysteries and Dateline. I’m going to miss our political chats. I’m going to miss her tuna sandwiches. I’m going to miss the love she shared with her grandchildren, Alex and Katie. I’m going to miss her motherly advice. I’m going to miss picking up the phone to talk and hearing her answer with, “There’s our good boy.” I’m going to miss my mom. They say that the amount you miss someone is an inverse of how much you loved them, and I – we – all of us – loved her so much.
Mom, the lessons you taught us will live with us forever. You would have been very happy that when the funeral home presented us with the bill for your arrangements, they told us that everything was “tax free”. And, yes, I could sense you nudging me before dad signed the contract to say, “Don’t forget to ask if they have a senior discount.”
And now we gather to say goodbye to the best mom there is. We can’t pick our moms, but if we could, I would pick her again every time. When we lose someone, they only go as far away as God, and in a place like this, that isn’t very far at all.
And now, with the heaviest of hearts, I would like to conclude with the lyrics that meant so much to you, Mom.
You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine;
You make me happy,
When skies are gray;
You'll never know, mom,
How much I love you;
Please don't take,
My sunshine away.
I love you, Mom.