My mother, Patsy Finnigan Cullinan, has been called to God. Her passing is filled with sadness and joy. She was everyone’s ‘Grandma,’ and relished that moniker. The animal kingdom has lost its greatest advocate (she was proudly an animal kook). Seriously, though, my mother was very intelligent and insightful, and was very sure about certain matters pertaining to the universe. To her, all good things came by grace, grace comes by God, and God does not come easily to most people. I never knew whether she believed God was a mathematician, but my mother certainly believed God could count. To her, only by picking up Gods rhythms are we able to regain power, courage and civility in our lives. My mother had an intrepid spirit in a God-centered life. Her daily routine focused on going to mass, doing good deeds for others, and making her children understand the pride in hard work and success. Our gift back to God was utilizing our God-given talents to their fullest extent. My mother had very high standards, as did my father and grandparents. They all went through life undaunted by prejudice and disappointment, and expected the ‘achievable’ best from their children and grandchildren. Life’s measure at the end is not in what we have accumulated, but in what we have accomplished. As my mother was sick, and near death, I know she had no regrets, and did not fear death. She accomplished all she was capable of through her belief in God, and despite the unspeakable hardship of losing a child, she knew her life has been blessed by God’s grace. What more can a true believer really ask for? I grew up in a family that did not constantly say, “I Love You.” Love was reserved for God and little children. Love, though, was profusely shown through God’s teachings, and one’s actions of charity, friendship and character. Our house was filled with murals and posters with the words, “God Is Love.” As children I think we always assumed these three words were spoken directly to our family and had no reference to the world outside, which my brothers, sisters and I soon discovered was full of bastards, the number increasing rapidly the farther we got from home. Sound familiar? Although nearly all those I loved and did not understand in my youth are dead, I still reach out to them. They’ve died, but have never gone away. All the love that was created is still there, as are the memories. I just hope I can imbue my children with the virtuous lessons my father, mother and grandparents gave me. I pray the same for all of you.
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 19:59:34 +0000