It’s as if I’ve walked in to a party, expecting to see her there. The host notices my expectant look and, ever attentive, taps me gently on the shoulder.
“You’ve just missed her,” he says softly and I flinch with surprise.
It happens time and again as I work my way through the crowd, through the days and weeks, through a lifetime ahead. I thought for sure I’d see her again. But though she’s slipped away and left the party, it’s not as if she’s gone unnoticed. She has left her mark, undoubtedly. Rising from the murmur of the guests, there is no hiss of idle gossip, only a whisper of fond remembrances. Yes, I thought for sure I’d see her. I have so much to tell her. Perhaps another time.
I had the privilege of delivering the eulogy at my mother’s celebration of life that took place at St. John’s church in Sandwich on April 19, 2017. Perhaps you’ve read the memoir that spurred this website… perhaps not (available here on Amazon). If you have, you already know the essence of my mother, Peggy Pola, as well as my father Carlo. If you haven’t read the memoir, I hope you’ll get to know her just a bit from the text that follows.
Margaret (Peggy) Pola
“I’m ready,” she said as she struggled with the buttons on her coat. I wasn’t sure of her intended meaning. Did she mean for her upcoming appointment? Or a more permanent departure? Her heavy sigh revealed her fatigue but little more. I didn’t press the issue.
She livened up when we hit the road. The winter sky was too beautiful to ignore with its wispy white clouds sweeping across a field of blue, the sun too brilliant for her not to comment. We make our way now beneath this paler sky, but it is still beautiful and engaging. Eyes forward, we drive on to a new year and new adventures. Whatever comes, we’ll do our best to be ready.