Tuesday, December 3, 2024
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Good afternoon, everyone.
Thank you all for being here today to honor the life of our mom, Charlyn. Your presence means so much to our family and to everyone who loved her.
Mom’s life wasn’t easy. But then again, who’s life truly is? For mom, happiness was hard to come by. Yet, there were bright spots—her 12 years with Ernie and 13 years with Mike. In total, that’s 25 years of happiness out of 65 years of adulthood. That’s a testament to the kind of love and joy she was able to find, even amidst the struggles.
Mom’s favorite color was lilac/purple, and that’s why you’ll see it everywhere today.
I believe that, due to the challenges she faced, Mom felt that everything she owned—whether big or small—had immense value. Having experienced hardship, she understood the true worth of what she had, and she cherished it deeply. No matter where she lived or what she could afford, she had a remarkable way of making the space homey, beautiful, peaceful, and cohesive. Her home was always filled with love, warmth, and meaning in every corner. This is why she refused to move in with me or Darlene and was adamant about not going to assisted living or a nursing home. Mom didn’t want to give up her cherished home, her belongings, or her beloved companions, Tango and Hobbes. They were a huge part of her life, and she was determined to keep them close.
Mom was compassionate, caring, and loving. She would give you the coat off her back and be cold, if you needed it. When she loved, she loved with all of her being. And when she was angry—well, let’s just say, you’d better watch out, because there might be a chair flying toward you! But even in her fierceness, her heart was big.
She was incredibly charitable. One of the causes she cared deeply about was supporting veterans, and she made it a point to donate to organizations that helped those who served our country. But her heart didn’t stop there. Mom also had a deep love for animals and was a strong supporter of animal rescue organizations, including the ASPCA.
She was a natural caretaker and homemaker, always putting the needs of her family first. Her dedication to her husbands, Ernie and Mike, was unwavering, and she loved them deeply. Whether it was through her devotion to them or through her nurturing care for all of us, Mom’s love was constant.
In addition to her family, she had many interests that brought her joy. She enjoyed music, reading, puzzles, crocheting and she loved spending time with her family. Walking, playing the accordion, baking, and even diamond painting were ways for her to relax and find peace. Although she enjoyed company, we knew when it was time to leave because she also liked her privacy and alone time.
Mom loved a full house—it was rare if we didn’t have one. She knew how to appreciate the little things and had a zest for life. Whether it was enjoying a good drink, dancing, or spending time with family, she embraced it all. Her love for animals—especially cats—was unmatched. From fish and turtles to dogs and iguanas, ferrets and bunny rabbits, gerbils and hamsters, animals were always a part of our home. In her later years, her two remaining companions, Tango and Hobbes, brought her great comfort and companionship. They were a source of unconditional love for her, and she cherished their presence deeply.
Looking back on my childhood, those moments—filled with family, animals, laughter, and love—are some of the happiest memories of my life. Mom's zest for life and her capacity to love unconditionally will stay with all of us forever.
She didn’t just raise me and Darlene—she raised and loved Ernie, Lisa, Joanne, and Jimmy as if they were her’s. We became one big blended family, and Mom and Ernie were a team that believed strongly in family. When she married Mike, we welcomed Colleen and Eileen into the fold as well, and although they were teenagers at the time, she embraced them just like the rest of us. It was always family first for her. She became the never-ending "mom" figure to so many, always there to care, to listen, and to give love.
She was known as Mom, Mommy, Mum, and Grandmum—each name carrying its own special meaning to her children and grandchildren. Her grandchildren held a special place in her heart, each of them bringing unique and cherished memories. From Bri Bri and John John, the first to arrive, to little Brian, Katerina, Joey, Aria, Davon, and Jaxson, Zoe & Hunter—she shared unforgettable moments with each of them. Our hope is that they carry her spirit with them, keeping her alive in their hearts for years to come.
We have so many amazing memories. From camping trips to barbecues at Peach Lake and Sherwood Island, from road trips to visit Uncle Mickey and Aunt Mary, to holiday dinners filled with laughter and love—Thanksgiving was always wild. She went all out—soup to nuts, literally! She didn’t just cook for us, she fed us—whether it was just 6 of us, with Grandma and Grandpa living with us, or the whole 10-person crew. And somehow, she got it in her mind that our favorite dish was fried liver. We also had our holiday shopping trips, where she made sure we all had new clothes to wear for the holiday. It was the little things like that—her care, her effort—that made the holidays so special.
Something I’ll always appreciate about Mom was her love for her brothers, our cousins, and extended family. She valued family so much, making sure our aunts, uncles, and cousins were always a big part of our lives. No matter what, her home was always open, especially during both the good and tough times. Those surprise visits from cousin Chuck, deep conversations with Patty, sleepovers with Sean, Chris, and Richard; Holidays with Robin, Mimi and KJ and trips to visit Danny, Jamie and Paulette where-ever they were and to Pennsylvania to visit with Jessica —they were all a part of what made our family so special.
Mom’s humor was infectious. I remember the time my friend Lynn and I went to Hawaii with her. We ended up walking out of a fancy dinner because it was all couples, and I was badly sunburned. We left a couple of bucks on the table for the drinks we had. The next day, I got a note from the restaurant saying I owed money. I was mortified. When I called Mom, she was laughing—because it was her who wrote the note!
Of course, Mom and I didn’t always see eye to eye—we were both strong-willed, determined people. There were plenty of battles between us, and some of those continued right up until the very end. But, through it all, Mom and I shared an unbreakable bond. In my childhood, she was my mother, but as I became an adult, she became my friend. We traveled together, went on cruises, took road trips to Nashville and Memphis, and even hit bars together. She gave me away at my wedding, and she and Mike helped me so much with Katerina and Joey. They were my daycare providers when Mom retired, and I couldn’t have done it without them. They did it without hesitation, because that's the kind of people they were.
Charlyn was a force of nature—strong-willed, determined, and independent. These qualities helped her survive two difficult short marriages, the loss of the love of her life at just 38, and a long struggle with depression. She even survived a drowning when she was a child, a near-fatal car crash and a home fire destroying most of her precious pets and belongings. With multiple surgeries, she earned the nickname “Bionic Woman.” But no matter what, she never gave up on life. She kept going because of her love for life and for God.
She found love again with Mike, and for the first time in years, she was truly happy. But her struggles with pain and vision loss took a toll, and she had to give up driving. But Mike drove her where-ever and whenever she needed to go. Mike doting on her and she loved it. She was happy again, surrounded by love and care.
Then, the unimaginable happened. We lost Pop Pop Mike. The pain of his loss tested her in ways we can’t imagine. But, as always, Mom fought with everything she had.
Even though moving to South Carolina was a big change, I helped Mom move because New York was no longer the best place for her. It was tough being apart, but we visited as often as we could.
The one bright spot was that she was closer to her brother Mickey and Aunt Mary when she moved to South Carolina, and their support, along with that of family visiting as often as possible, made her days brighter. A few years ago her brother Danny moved a block away from her and visited her every day until he became sick. Mom shared special times with her brothers and Aunt Mary: going out to eat (mom was a foodie), shopping; going to their mutual allergy doctor, getting hot dogs on Tuesdays. Uncle Danny would come sit with her, talk and feed the cats while she slept.
My husband Joe and Mom had a very special relationship. When he told her he loved her, she would light up. He did everything he could for her—whatever she asked, he’d respond, "How high?" Whether it was changing the house filters, installing new items she bought, or feeding the cats while we all slept in. They shared many of the same ideals and politics and had some truly great conversations together.
Mom hated losing her independence and having to rely on others. She became homebound, as her balance worsened and pain became a daily struggle. When she could no longer do the things she enjoyed, her depression resurfaced and the loneliness from her past losses became more intense. But even in those difficult times, Mom made it clear that it had to be her way—her schedule, her terms. She had always been fiercely independent, and that never changed, even when she needed help.
When we learned about her diagnosis and prognosis, it was a hard pill to swallow. But Mom faced it all with her typical strength.
While in the hospital, Mom told us that she lived a good life. She enriched the lives of everyone she touched—friends and strangers alike. The morning before she came home, she said "home" and "priest." We reassured her that she was on her way home and the priest was on the way, and we told her everything would be just as she wanted.
She passed away in the home she loved, surrounded by family and her beloved cats, and with the comfort of the priest's last rites. We were able to fulfill her wish to be at home, and though we didn’t have as much time as we’d hoped, we gave her the peace she deserved.
It’s hard to sum up a life so full of love, humor, and resilience. But we are so thankful for everything she gave us. To Aunt Mary, Uncle Mickey, and Uncle Danny, we say thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Your love meant the world to her.
Mom is gone, but she will always live on through us—through her children, her grandchildren, and all of you whose lives she touched. We will carry her love, her strength, and her spirit in everything we do. I am so proud to be her daughter, and I’ll carry her memory and spirit with me always.
Rest in peace, Mom. We love you, and we always will.
