For Moms

Today on Mother’s Day I thank God for all the wonderful women, the mothers who have not only been a part of my life but also have a lot to do with who I am today.

The first, of course, is my mother, Martha Cavanaugh McCarthy, who died on March 12, 1977 at the age of 67. It’s hard to believe she’s been gone from us for 46 years. 

Mom married my dad on July 4, 1935, and raised two very different and difficult boys, my brother Jeff and me. But she and my dad raised us well. Any faults we developed or demonstrated later in life were all of our own doing. The photo at left was taken probably around 1930 when Mom earned her RN at St. Vincent’s Hospital in Bridgeport, Connecticut. I think she was 21 at the time.

Dad remarried to a wonderful woman named Barbara, who cared for him during his last quarter-century. He lived to a ripe age of 95, leaving us in 2005. And then my big brother, Jeff, died in 2010 at the age of 69. I guess that makes me a 78-year-old orphan, who daily asks Mom, Dad, and Jeff to intercede for me and my family. The photo below, taken in the 1950s, shows Mom and Dad enjoying a beer.

My mom's mother, who was born in Ireland in 1867, died when Mom was just 11, so I knew only one of my grandmothers, my dad's mom, Ann Moran McCarthy. Thanks to her eldest grandchild, my brother, Jeff, she became known as Grangy. I guess he had trouble saying, Grandma. Anyway, the name stuck and that's how she was known by all the grandchildren. She lived with us for several years but spent her last year in a nursing home. Born on October 19, 1877, she lived a dozen years as a widow and died in 1960 at the age of 82. She was a good woman and a wonderful grandmother, always good for a story, a laugh, and an Irish lullaby. I have only vague memories of my grandfather, mostly of visits to the Veterans Hospital where he spent his final months. Here's a photo of me, Grandpa, and Grangy, probably in 1947, when I was only three and apparently fascinated by something else.

Although I loved these women, only one mother is the love of my life, and that's my wife, Diane. We've been married for 54 wonderful years, through good times and challenging times, but no bad times. We've suffered though some sad times, but these were overwhelmed by so many times of remarkable joy. Every day has been a gift, especially that day when I saw her for the first time. It was a blind date and when she walked into her folk’s living room, I was smitten. That was on September 16, 1967. Here a photo of Diane back when we first met.

Anyway, as I recall, it took me all of perhaps ten seconds to decide I would marry her. I needed only to convince her to agree. For some reason that took her a little longer, but we finally married on November 2, 1968. 

Diane is the mother of our four children and grandmother of nine. And so, we have four more moms in the family, daughters and daughters-in-law. Our only hope is that they and their wonderful children all get to heaven. Can we hope and pray for anything better? 

Happy Mother's Day to all.