Family

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It’s been nearly a year since my mom died. It still feels unreal. Often, it feels like she’s just absent, but might walk in the door at any time or be on the other end of the phone. She feels as immediate as ever; after all, I’m surrounded with memories of her, gifts from her, thoughts of her. But at the same time, when I try to connect with her, I don’t feel her there. When I try to push through the ether to send her a prayer, I feel like I’m leaving a voicemail. She is all at once there and not.

And when I think of the joy my son is missing by not having her, I break. My mom was the most fantastic mother on the planet. She was born to it. She always made me feel loved, she was so fun, she was so kind, she was straightforward, she was soft, she was tough, she knew how to get things done. To think my baby won’t know her laugh is soul-crushing. To think my mom won’t know his coos is heartbreaking.

But I also know that in some way, she knows him, that maybe she held him before he was born. After all, I had dreams of her: a dream that I told her I was pregnant, a dream where she told me what name she liked best. She is there, but not in the way I most wish her to be.

Losing my mom makes every moment precious. It makes me quick to express joy and also grief. Every moment with my son is wonderful, something to cherish. I also grieve every passing second knowing he will never be so small or fragile again. I am at once enjoying every moment in the moment, trying to soak it all in, but at the same time I feel those moments fleeting. I wonder if my mom ever felt that way, if she tried to wring every ounce of happiness and wonder out those early months. How did she carry the burden of motherhood with her grief? After all, she lost her mother not long after my sister was born (and years before I came into the world).

Knowing that we both have trod the same path feels like some sort of curse, but I also feel some comfort. My mom gave me all the love and happiness and joy I could have asked for without her own mom to turn to. Now, I’ll do the same for my son. I hope, like me, he feels so loved by his mother.

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My mom died back in March. In mid-April, my family held her funeral. It was obviously terrible, but it was also really comforting and healing. I am so grateful to many of my mom’s friends and some loved ones of my own for coming to pay their respects and to check on my family.

Despite being really, really hard, so many folks shared so many thoughtful words and stories. I treasure those moments as I grieve.

With this all in mind, I want to share what I found most touching and helpful at my mom’s service (and honestly at others I’ve attended too).

What to Say at a Funeral

• “I remember when…” I love to hear memories. If you have a heartfelt, goofy or just plain nice story, please share it with the family as you work your way through the receiving line.
• “They were such a great…” Tell someone what an amazing person the deceased was. Were they a wonderful listener? A fun coworker? A first-rate gardener? Terrific at mixing a Tom Collins? These remarks can help remind you how incredible your loved one was—or can even give you some unknown insight into their talents or character.
• “You remind me of them.” The highest compliment I could ever be paid.

What to Do at a Funeral

• Bring a treat or gift. My friend Gina brought me a chocolate croissant during my mom’s visitation. She had it packaged up to take home to enjoy later. My friend Katie dropped off a card with a grocery store gift card. These gifts were really appreciated (and they were super useful to keep me fortified the day-of and days after).
• Send flowers. When in doubt, send flowers. They are a visual reminder of your support (plus my mom loved plants).
• Make a donation. Some families may suggest donations can be made to a particular cause to honor the deceased. This is a great way to show your respects. If a family hasn’t chosen any certain organization, choose one you support or one you think the deceased would appreciate (provided it’s not political or religious in a way the deceased wouldn’t like; this is not the time to rile up a family). Great options always include humane societies, libraries, environmental causes and food pantries.
• Write a card. Sometimes funerals and receiving lines are busy. If you have words to share, write them down! They’re a nice token to revisit later.

What Not to Say at a funeral

Even though most came to the funeral with kind intentions, there were still some more challenging conversations. I know that death is hard. I know funerals can be uncomfortable, but here are a few things to just not get into at a visitation or service (besides the obvious topics to avoid in polite conversation):

• “How did they die?” This one really stung. Someone walked up to me and said, “Oh I thought your mom was sick or something was wrong. What happened, and how did she die?” I understand the curiosity, especially when someone isn’t particularly old, but please, do not ask (or at least do not ask the family). It’s really painful to rehash the details of someone’s physical decline in the midst of an extremely difficult day.
• “They weren’t looking so great.” Trust me: A grieving person knows this. They know that their loved one wasn’t feeling or looking their best. Do not point this out. It does nothing to console. It’s insensitive and insulting.
• Any comments about the appearance of the deceased. My mom was cremated, so there was no viewing. However, I’ve been at many a funeral with an open casket. Don’t make any remarks on how a person looks. Don’t say they don’t look good. Don’t say they look peaceful. Don’t say they look like they just fell asleep. Even if the words are honest, they aren’t always ready to be received. And under no circumstance comment on how the deceased doesn’t look good. Please.
• Any critical comments about the visitation, viewing, service, eulogy, etc. Didn’t like the songs? Wish there were more photos? Thought the service was long? Keep it all to yourself. The people that organized the day are sad, they are struggling and they are doing their best. Good vibes only.

Depressing? You bet! But I hope this is helpful to people trying to support friends in need.

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It’s been a few weeks, but it feels unreal that my mom is gone. The brightest light in my life has gone out.

After battling brain cancer for three years, my mom passed away on March 23, 2024. This isn’t something I’ve shared much about, though it’s occupied my mind every minute of the day since her diagnosis.

Despite a really terrible prognosis, my mom did so much since her surgery back in February 2021 and all the subsequent treatments and therapy sessions. She traveled to Maine, Las Vegas, the Grand Canyon and all across Wisconsin. She celebrated her 40th wedding anniversary in spectacular style (and her 41st too!). My mom gained a daughter-in-law. She attended comedy and drag shows. She shopped so many craft fairs and street festivals. She played countless games of cribbage and cards. My mom did so much.

And she continued to love us all as well. When my mom finally woke up after a long recovery, she knew my dad, my family and me. She made us all feel incredibly loved, and that’s something I’ll carry with me forever.

It’s been a really tough few weeks since losing my mom, so even though I could write about her for the rest of my life, I’ll leave you all with her obituary:

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Nancy Ann (Michalek) Kaminski passed away March 23, 2024 surrounded by her loving family. Nancy was born to Norma (Brannan) Michalek on March 10, 1956 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.

From an early age, Nancy had a knack for creating. As a girl she spent weekends sewing with her grandmother. Nancy would practice this skill for decades to come. She worked at a seamstress at Gimbels and continued to sew throughout her life. Nancy made clothing and costumes for her children, altered clothing for friends and family, stitched up projects to decorate her home, and made plenty of scrub jackets, surgical caps, and masks for the many doctors and nurses she worked with throughout her careers.

Nancy also happily spent countless hours in the kitchen, a passion she inherited from her mother. Those lucky enough to know Nancy surely indulged in many of her baked goods and wonderful dinners. Nancy’s talents gained her recognition in the form of Wisconsin State Fair ribbons, an article in The Milwaukee Journal Sentinel, and plenty of requests to share her recipes (which she did happily).

Beyond crafting and baking, Nancy enjoyed her garden. She had a special love for beautiful flowers, vegetables, and herbs. Hardly a summer day went by without Nancy pulling out just one more weed before she ran out to spend time with family and friends.

Because Nancy never liked to sit still, she filled any spare time she could with games of cribbage with her husband Allen, traveling, bumming with her sisters and daughters, and volunteering at Ascension Columbia-St. Mary’s.

What Nancy was most known for, however, was her warmth, kind heart, and infectious laugh. These qualities made Nancy an incredible wife, sister, mother, grandmother, and friend.

Nancy is survived by her husband of nearly 42 years, Allen; sisters Debby and Mary Michalek; children James, Charles, Chad Kowalewski (Katie), Heather Kowalewski, Angela, and Lisa (Michael Stock); and grandchildren Benjamin and Anna Kowalewski. She is further survived by many, many friends.

Nancy is loved beyond measure and will be deeply missed by all those who knew her.