Happy Birthday, Mom

On June 28, 1909 my mother, Martha Catherine Cavanaugh, was born in Fairfield, Connecticut. Mom was the ninth and youngest child in her family. Her parents, Thomas Cavanaugh and Julia (Soier) Cavanaugh, were both born in Ireland back in 1873 and 1866. They both died before I was born, so I never knew them. My paternal grandmother, Ann (Moran) McCarthy, was also born in Ireland. Her husband and my paternal grandfather, John McCarthy, was born in Canada while his parents were visiting relatives in Quebec. So, thanks to my four grandparents, I guess that makes me a full-fledged, second-generation American. 

As for Mom, she was an absolutely wonderful mother, the family glue that held everything together and always kept us moving in the right direction. Quiet, but strong in her beliefs, Mom willingly shared her wisdom with her two sons. My dad offered us lots of wonderful, practical guidance and grounded us politically and to a certain extent, philosophically. But Mom taught us the truly important things. She was the family’s spiritual guide whose love for God and His Church certainly had a lasting effect on me. 

Mom died far too soon at the age of 67 on March 12, 1977. It’s hard to believe she’s been gone 46 years, but even harder to believe she was born 114 years ago, a fact that reminds me of my own advance age. As I said to Diane today, I would happily have given Mom ten years of my life so she could have lived another ten years. And Diane said, “I would have done the same.” Yes, indeed, she was and still is loved. We miss you, Mom. Happy Birthday. Rest is please.