The Happiest Funeral I've Ever Been To

Last week was a bit of a blur. My mom was sick for many years, and in many ways, we all feel as if we lost her more than a decade ago, but if I'm being honest, it is difficult to actually grasp that she is actually gone. It all seemed to happen too fast, even though we knew the day would come. Oddly, though, I'm not as horribly crushed as I always thought I would be when we finally bid farewell to Mom.

Truth be told, her parting was beautiful. We were there with her, and for that last moment, we saw her - and she saw us. I told someone at her funeral that it was the "happiest funeral I've ever been to," and I meant it. I saw people I have not seen in two decades or more. Relatives and friends came in droves, from far and near, to pay respect to Mom and/or our family. I have never received so many hugs and kind words. My uncle and cousin sang for her, their beautiful, powerful voices riveting. I haven't hear Uncle Brent sing for many, many years, and it truly touched me - especially to hear him sing with his own little girl, whom my mother used to cradle in her arms. My Uncle Rickey played with passion, those old hymns dancing off his fingertips and right to God's ear and Mom's; she always loved those gospel tunes, especially when her family played them. Pastor Dave (of Northside, my former church home) spoke beautiful words, and it was doubly sweet that my pastor and some folks from my church (Springfield Bible Baptist) were also there to support us. An entire garden of flowers was sent by so many loving folks, even some from my future sister-in-law in Japan. There were nurses and co-workers, church folk and neighbors, former classmates and so many others there - people who loved our mom and whom she loved in return. It was an honor to be among them all, and I feel special to be the daughter of a woman so adored. Lots of people told me how much I look like her, and I can think of no greater compliment, because she was beautiful.

Some people may want to forget the day their mom passed away and the week they laid her to rest, but I don't ever want to forget this past week. From a wee-hours breakfast with my brother and sister and daughter at Bob Evans to sleeping in our cars waiting for news to Mom peering at us one last time with her pretty brown eyes to the blessings bestowed upon us by so many thoughtful, caring people to working together on a eulogy about her to watching my sister do my little girl's hair so she could look pretty for the services, these have been special times. I feel closer to my family than I have in many years, and I have a new determination to live my life better, in a way that would be more pleasing to my mom and make her proud of me. I did not want to lose my mom. No one would. But in some odd way, her trip to Heaven has opened my eyes to the heavenly things around me down here, and I am so grateful for all she taught us about how to spread a little Heaven around on Earth while we still have the chance. Most of all, thinking of her and knowing how wonderful and amazing she was to so many inspires me to do better. Somehow, losing Mama helped  me to find part of myself that I lost long ago, and I feel so rejuvenated in my faith and in my family because of her.


Yesterday, after a very long week, we decided to go out to the reservoir, just to enjoy a little of the sunshine. As we walked up over the hill, my sister said, "Just think...Mom used to see all this." We looked around at the lake and the beautiful scene before us, and I fondly recalled when Mom water-skiied from the back of Grandpa's boat on all those summer holidays when we were younger. She loved her family so much and loved life and sought to find the fun in it. As we were leaving the beach yesterday, in the middle of a rainstorm, a rainbow appeared in the sky, and again we thought of Mom, particularly because there was a little church song on that cassette she loved called "The Rainbow Song." The lyrics to that song go: "It's hard to imagine these colors so bright, came out of a storm filled with thunder and lightning, but God has the power to take something frightening and turn it into a beautiful sight." I truly believe that is what God did for us with our mom. All these years, as frightened as we've been about her disease, her storm, in the end, He showed us a beautiful sight. He took our mom home and freed her from her pain, and that is beautiful on its own!

I am pasting below the poems that my sister and I wrote for her, the ones we displayed at her funeral. Some have asked for them, as well as a copy of the eulogy I had the great privilege of writing with my sister, the one Libby read from, so I am sharing them here.

I’ve Watched You, Mom

by Autumn Conley

I watched as you told stories,

to all the boys and girls.

Wide-eyed I learned about Jesus

from the woman who gave me my curls.

I watched as you worked so very hard,

always there to fill the gaps –

in the garden, the store, the church, your home,

or when little ones needed a lap.

I watched as you cared for others,

whether kinfolk or those in need.

You showed them the Lord’s compassion

not only in words but deeds.

I watched as you showed quiet strength

when your little boy was Uncle Sam’s.

You prayed for him both night and day

and trusted him to God’s hands.

I watched in humble amazement

when I caused your heart to break,

yet you always loved me anyway,

in spite of my mistakes.

I watched as you held my baby,

smiling down with a Grandma’s pride,

and in that sweet, sweet voice of yours,

she was softly lullabied.

I watched as a vile sickness

took you from us piece by piece.

It broke my heart to see your pain,

and I prayed that it would cease.

I watched as you looked at us once more

to make sure we’d be all right,

and I was happy when you finally let go

to take your happy flight.

For all my life I’ve watched you, Mom,

and you were the woman I long to be.

I hope you will smile down from there

if ever you watch me.

I Gave My Mom to Jesus

by Liberty Choiniere

Today I gave my mom to Jesus,

the hardest thing I've done,

to let her go up in the sky,

up to Heaven’s Son.

Today I gave my mom to Jesus,

after a long and trying road.

Pain and hurt no more exist,

for He has taken on her load.

Today I gave my mom to Jesus.

He promised to care for her for me.

She longed for His trumpet call

and to walk by the calm, heavenly sea.

Today I gave my mom to Jesus,

the Jesus she truly loves.

My mama has walked through those pearly gates

and now lives far above.

Today I gave my mom to Jesus,

and she can smile, laugh, and prance.

No illness or sickness bind her now,

and with our long-lost loved ones she can dance.

Today I gave my mom to Jesus.

I will miss her in every way.

I smile to the heavens now

and strive to honor her every day.

Today I gave my mom to Jesus.

She is with Him, this I know.

One day I’ll be there with her,

because I love her Jesus so!

Mom’s Eulogy

Read (Bravely and Brilliantly!) by My Little Sister, Libby Choiniere

at Northside Baptist Church, June 8, 2015

For those of you who don’t know me, I am Liberty Choiniere, the youngest child of Sissy’s three. As my siblings, Autie and Jason, and I worked on preparing this little speech about our mother, many things came to mind, yet there do not seem to be adequate words to capture all that she was to so many and why there were so many reasons to look up to her here. Now, we just have to look a little higher, because she’s gracing Heaven with her presence. As my dad said to her in her last moments, she just “got to the candy dish first.”

From the time she was young, Mom wanted to be a teacher. Later in her life, as she grew into a young woman and a new bride, she longed to become a missionary. While she never traveled to foreign fields, as she wished to do before her illness, she was both a teacher and missionary in so many ways, starting in her own home, in her city, in a preschool, and in the churches where she faithfully served. She was a godly woman, and while she used her great gift of storytelling, her love of Sunday school songs, her puppets, her vivid and life-changing object lessons, and her trusty flannel-graph boards on Sunday mornings and in Vacation Bible Schools to share Jesus with children, she also taught everyone around her every day of her life. She taught us about hard work, for she would not tolerate the word “bored” and was always right in the midst of the labor, be it cleanup or construction, housework, canning, gardening, church work, painting, or taking care of any baby she could get her loving arms around, like little Frankie Frankfurter, who helped prepare her for today, or little Brittney, whose voice blesses us now. She even made work fun, telling us on those hot summer days in the garden rows that weeding is really just “pulling the devil’s hair out.” 

She taught us about silent strength, always saying, “If you have nothing nice to say, then say nothing at all,” or, “It takes a bigger person to walk away from a fight than it does to fight,” bravely handling things in life, from everyday responsibilities to helping her parents run a business to standing strong and staying in constant prayer while her little boy served four years in the Army to holding her precious little dying niece, her angel, little Nikki, in her arms and singing lullabies to her for hours. She loved each of her brothers and sisters dearly and taught us about the value of family, that no bonds are more important and that we cannot ever stop loving each other, even when we were tattling on one another from the back seat of the car. She taught us about finding the joy in the little things, from “banana seeds” to silly little limericks about a peanut on a railroad track, making us all burst out in laughter with her infectious giggles. She taught us about never giving up, telling us always, “Can’t died in the poorhouse.” She taught us about love and would not let us even speak the word “hate” without giving us that Mom look that had us shutting up real quick. She taught us about selflessness when she filled our minivan up every Sunday morning with the little shoeless, runny-nosed, “dirty” kids who lived in the poorest neighborhoods in our town, just so she could take them to church to hear about the Jesus she loved. She taught us that the souls of people are important, not the labels that society puts on them. She taught us about compassion when she bought those kids Christmas and clothes and shoes and made sure they were fed. She taught us about humility when she pulled out that camcorder to record our family Christmases, never minding that she was the one behind the lens instead of in the spotlight. She even taught us about taking good care of our bodies, sharing all she learned from her daddy and mama about natural medicines, even though we used to sneak and throw our piles of herbs away when she wasn’t looking. (Shh! Don't tell Dad!) She taught us to encourage and support each other and to appreciate our unique gifts, be it cheering me on from the sidelines as I played softball and basketball or bragging to everyone about my sister’s report cards and scholarships and poetry or smiling coyly at my brother in approval when he graduated from basic training or proudly announced things like, “Hey, Mom, I killed a squirrel today,” one of the last things he said to her before she was bedridden. She taught us about being a good wife and often hopped on the back of Dad’s Harley in her fringed leather jackets or went to weekend archery shoots just to be with him; it’s no wonder that over the last eleven-plus years, he has visited her nearly every day in the nursing home and sat by her bedside just talking to her and holding her hand or enjoying watching Price is Right with her; my parents were both dedicated to one another, no matter the obstacles they had to face. She taught us about worship, singing in the church choir, harmonizing from her pew, singing along with her Sunday school songs cassettes in the car, and being moved to tears when she heard her brothers sing in church or had the chance to sing with them and hear beautiful piano songs being played by her brother and mama. She taught us about respecting our parents, for she loved her daddy and mom more than any daughter ever could and would gladly do anything for them. She always worked so hard at making them proud of her and of us kids. She taught us about nurturing, in the way she took care of us and the way she helped my sister take care of little Cissy, her namesake. She taught us about sacrifice, for she was always there for anyone who needed her, no matter the cost, even during the years when her body was beginning to fail her. She even taught herself for the benefit of others, learning skills like elementary education and foot reflexology and sign language so she could make a real difference. Our mama wanted to be a teacher and a missionary, to show Jesus to others through her actions, and she did that in so many, many ways every day of her life. 

When we were little, like a lot of kids do, we often found ourselves rolling our eyes at her or muttering complaints about her rules and discipline (though we wouldn’t have dared let her know, as sassing was not tolerated and would quickly have us waiting for a spanking – one that would break her heart and have her in tears long before we cried from the sting.) We often thought, “Boy, I hope I don’t ever turn into Mom.” Now, though, as we raise kids of our own, her five grandbabies she would have adored and never put down, we appreciate all she taught us, and we will cherish all these lessons and honor her by trying to live a life that speaks Jesus to the world, just as Mom did. I cannot think of anyone I’d rather be like than this woman who personified all the good things God tells us to be. I know we’re not supposed to have idols, but if we were, my mom would be mine. God revealed to me at the beginning of her illness that it was my turn to honor mom in all I do. I will never be as amazing as my mama but will strive every day to make her proud and honor her and the Lord in all I do.

 

In her last hours, she was surrounded by the people who loved her, including many of you, listening to our chatter and hearing us tell her it was okay to go home. In her very last moment on this Earth, her milky-gray eyes that hadn’t blinked at us in at least fifteen hours turned brown again, and she used her very last strength to focus those pretty eyes on my dad, me, my sister, my brother, and my niece, then up to her Jesus. She seemed relieved to know we were all okay. There couldn’t have been a more beautiful parting for a more beautiful woman, and as she walks now on golden streets, with other people she loved who have gone on before her, I know she is smiling, pain-free and hugging Jesus. I’m sure she was greeted by people who are in Heaven because of what she taught them, and many more will meet her there someday because of the way she lived her life. Mom was a warrior who found her strength in God and in her godly family, and she wanted everyone else to find that strength too. Sissy believed every child or adult deserves to know God, and there is no greater joy than knowing that we, too, have the opportunity every day – in our words and our actions – to teach others about the Jesus she sits with today. Mom always said that one day she wanted to hear Jesus say to her, “Well done, good and faithful servant” (Matthew 25:23), and finally, on Monday, June8, 2015, seconds after four a.m., my mom heard those blessed words as she entered Heaven’s gates. She is healed, she is perfect...and she is His!