Em's speech

When I think of mom, I remember her vibrance and love of life.

I remember her smile, the exclamations she used when she was excited, and the sound of her laughter.

I remember many family dinners around the kitchen table, her laughing so hard that she had to push her glasses up, wipe her eyes and blow her nose a few times.

Maybe that’s why she always had tissues with her -in her pants pockets, in all coat pockets, and stuffed into her purse- because she knew any moment could be a moment of happiness, where joy or amusement could bubble over into tears of laughter.

I wanted to share two more of my favorite memories of mom, ones I think of often, for the feelings they evoke.

The first is one where I’m a little girl, perhaps 4 or 5 years old. It was a memory repeated many times, whether at IVST pool or at the beach in Hawaii. It’s a beautiful summer day, the sun is shining from a clear blue sky, and the air is warm. I can see other families together, and hear children laughing and playing. Before I can go in the water, Mom rubs sunscreen on my back. I can feel her hands against my shoulders, making sure to get the spots under my speedo straps, and I can smell the sunscreen. And at that moment, I feel incredibly happy. It’s a beautiful day, it’s me and mom, and I feel loved and taken care of. I feel like the world is my oyster.

Another favorite memory is one from swim team. I’m young, probably around 4 or 5 again. It’s so funny that I raced for so many years, since I’m not a competitive person.

But anyways, I loved Lane 1- the one at the edge, so that there’s the side of the pool to hang on to- you know, just in case you needed it.

With the sound of a starter’s gun, the race has started. Suddenly I’m in the pool, it’s cold. I don’t like it, I’m sort of freaking out- what am I doing? Where am I? Do I remember how to swim? Mom is cheering her heart out, yelling, “Goooo Mimi!!!”, walking every step along the 25 yards of the pool, at the pace that I am paddling across the pool.

I am a tangle of arms and legs, but by some miracle I make it to the end. I’m helped out of the pool and Mom envelops me my giant orange swim towel, rubbing my shoulders, hugging me close and telling me “good job!” .

I realize that I am no longer cold and scared, but rather, warm and alive, and frankly, I feel like a million bucks.

Because that’s what mom’s do- they make you feel like a million bucks. And beyond that- they believe in you, when you’re too young to believe yourself, or when you’re unsure. And as you grow up, they teach you- they teach you to believe it yourself- so that you know it’s true. Mom did that for each of us. And for that, I feel incredibly blessed.

She was an amazing woman.