Posts Tagged ‘Parent Relationship’

They Call Me Marcy’s Son – A Eulogy

Wednesday, February 24th, 2021

Marcelina Reid, my mom, a tan skin woman with salt and pepper short hair standing in an off white and tan lace dress, poses in front of a stream with low green shrubs with a building reflected in the water.

My mother Marcelina passed away this month. I always wanted her to come on the podcast to have an open conversation around the topic of adult child/parent relationships after Vision Loss or disability. But Mom was from that generation that didn’t really get into those types of conversations, especially with their sons. I tried off microphone before and it wasn’t happening.

I felt the need to share some of these feelings and I know many of those adjusting to Vision Loss will see some of their own relationships in my experience with my mother.

My mother Marcy, the woman who raised me. My partner in silliness! probably my introduction to stories and the person who taught me how to find the good in bad situations. Yo soy El hijo de Marcy, Marcy’s son!

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Transcript

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— Soft ambient music begins

TR:

Hey there Reid My Mind Radio family! Much love to you all!

It’s your brother Thomas here on the check in…

If this is your first time joining the podcast, I’m the host and producer. Twice a month, we bring you compelling people impacted by all degrees of blindness. Every now and then I bring you stories from my own experience as a man adjusting to becoming Blind as an adult.

Today’s episode sort of falls into that last category. But I’m considering this a special episode.

Audio: Reid My Mind Theme Music

TR:

In the intro, I said we bring you this podcast twice a month. Well, yes there are times when that’s not true, usually though, I let you know when a brother needs a bit of a break.

This month, I had to change it up a bit.

My mom passed away and I didn’t want to release an episode that was actually ready to go.

I usually include some social media promoting of the episodes after each release, I didn’t want my public voice talking about the podcast while my private voice was grieving the loss of my mother.

On multiple occasions during the life span of this podcast, I wanted to have my mother on as a guest. My mother was very charismatic and actually quite funny. I know she would have been really entertaining, however, my real goal was to get some insight into the relationships between children who become Blind as adults and their parent or parents.

Unfortunately, my mom was from that generation that didn’t talk much about that sort of thing.

My mom as far as I know continued to blame herself for my having Retinoblastoma as a child. Me losing my left eye as a baby I know had a tremendous impact on how she treated me in comparison to my older siblings.

So when I had to tell my mom about the tumor found behind my right eye as an adult, that wasn’t easy for me to do and I know not easy for her to hear.

— Soft melancholy piano music begins —

“Put it in God’s hands!”, was her response. Five words I’d come to hear throughout my life. As an over analyzing, action oriented young man this phrase never really sat well with me. My interpretation was that it didn’t mean much if we ignored the conversation about what we should do about the problem.

Mom didn’t say much in this situation with her words, but I realized her actions actually completed what I needed to hear. She was always ready to do whatever was required. You need a ride, she’d drive. You need someone to watch the girls, she was on her way to the house. Quiede comer? Do you want to eat? If yes and actually even if you didn’t answer, she’d cook up something just in case.

— Soft melancholy music fades to an end —

Being Blind around my mom was personally really difficult for me. As a man, I want to be seen as a protector of my family. My immediate family, my wife and girls see me that way. Whatever is necessary they know I’ll do.

We know for example, driving, for those who lose their sight as adults is one of the most difficult things to give up.

We hear about the loss of independence. I stopped driving immediately when I knew I could endanger my family and others.

As a little kid, I remember watching my Dad and the older men in my family pack up the car, discuss the best route to take and then pilot us safely to our destination. Honestly, it wasn’t just men, my Mom and aunts often did a lot of driving. It’s something as a young boy to watch other older men that makes me see myself in that role someday. One of the reasons I probably loved taking road trips with my family before my vision loss.

I remember watching my older cousins chauffeur their mother and think that was the coolest thing ever. I loved how they’d get out the car with their car keys in hand, appearing almost like a body guard for their mother.

Being a protector of my mother could also mean just being there for her and helping her get things done.

A few months before my second Cancer diagnosis, my brother passed away. I got the call while at work. I stopped everything and went to my mother. I always kept a copy of keys to her apartment with me in case of an emergency.

I opened the door. I can still see the image of her sitting on a chair in the foyer just a few feet from that door to the apartment. She just sat there alone crying, looking as though she was waiting for someone to come through the door.

I felt proud to be that person for her. Arriving in time to take care of everything that she needed. Making the arrangements, answering questions, taking the phone calls. She later told me how much she appreciated me being there. Of course, I didn’t want my brother to leave before my mom, she already lost my oldest sister 25 years earlier. I was however very thankful I could make it easier for her.

Then just a few months later, it seemed like I’d never really have that chance to be seen the same by my mother.

After becoming Blind, the way she responded to me felt like she could never see me as that strong adult able to take care of her. Rather, she wanted to be the
care giver. Even though it wasn’t necessary.

“Quidau!”, she’d say over and over. Be careful as I get up from my seat. I’m fine Ma! I’d say in frustration. “He’s fine Ma!” my wife, Marlett would offer knowing I was growing more irritable. “Abuela” Daddy’s fine!” my oldest daughter would offer in my support.

This scenario would repeat as often as we were together. It took place in my own home, in her apartment – where I grew up. It took place in public which was ten times worse for me. to handle. It was as though not only could she not see me in a strong male role, but it felt like she pointed that out to anyone inevitably watching.

She tried to get better about that. I know Marlett tried to explain how that made me feel, but it was just who my mother was. I would always be her baby! That I can understand now with babies of my own, but it never really made it easier for me. I never again felt as though she saw me as someone who would protect her as she did me when growing up.

My sister Camille had the chance to be there for Mommy in the end. My mother lived with my sister and her family in what became her final years. Cam and the rest of the family did great in keeping mommy safe and healthy as she could be. She remained by her side through her last breath.

— Calm music begins which opens to a steady rhythm —

If it wasn’t going to be me there with her then I’m so thankful it was my sister.

During the wake we set aside some time to celebrate my mom’s life. We invited family and friends to share any memories or stories of my mom.

During this celebration, I had an opportunity to Eulogize my mom. I didn’t get to actually do it the way I think it should have been done so I’d like to share it here as a way to hopefully share some of that incredible light my mom shined on all who met and knew her.

Eres el hijo de Marcy

When we were growing up, random people in a pizza shop, supermarket perhaps or in front of some building in Co-op City in the Bronx would confirm that fact.

You’re Marcy’s son?

At that time, it meant I had to be careful.
I had to be on my best behavior because if my mother found out I was doing something I shouldn’t have been doing,
that would be bad enough. But finding out from a friend, I think that would have been way worse.

But being Marcy’s son, daughter or anything for that matter, to me means you benefit in some way from some of what she had.

You have to begin with strength.

That’s strength and courage to experience adversity and remain faithful in what you believe.
That’s what she did after burying two children way before their time. Plus losing her husband of 31 years.

It means, being stubborn. Incredibly stubborn.
But that’s conviction. Because everything she did was done with passion.

it’s an incredible sense of humor,

Honestly, some of that can be a bit crude and
while I don’t think she’d mind, I won’t go into specifics.

Mommy, could laugh at her own ways and flaws.
Never taking herself too seriously.

Mommy, was just so silly!
As little kids, you never knew when
you might turn the corner in the apartment and
there she was. Waiting on you.
Sometimes she was in one of those facial mud masks.
Other times she’d put on this orange alien looking mask.
She’d raise her hands in that supposed to be scary monster attacking pose while growling.

Even in more recent times, I know if
I ever needed anyone to act silly with, Mommy would never disappoint.

My Mom was a natural storyteller.

Those who had the chance to experience it definitely remember, Story time with Marcy…

It could have started with something simple like, let me tell you what happened today…

But, if you’re lucky, it began with a meal in her kitchen. That in itself is a gift!

If she was in the mood to share a story, alright, who am I kidding? it didn’t take much…

Mommy, tell them about the time… that could be anything.

I’m talking about either her childhood stories from Puerto Rico or
some of the early adventures in 1950’s New York City.

Mommy told stories in 3D.
She didn’t just tell you a story,
she brought you into it with sound effects she made up on the spot.

Panga na could be a crash, a punch…

She make these big , over exaggerated movements to illustrate or re-enact.

Sometimes, you might even be used as a prop.

Veng aki, as she pulls you out of your seat.

Of course, she had an action packed and dramatic tale.

you might wonder if she was embellishing.

That is until you experience something with her in life and you realize, oh no, those stories are true.

Marlett, Riana & Raven and Mommy were all hanging out at the mall.
I’d say about 8 or 10 years ago. Mommy had to be 75 or 77.

When they got home, the girls came and told me;
Daddy, Abuela got into a fight with this lady at Arthur Treachers.

That’s not news to me!

It wasn’t really for them either because they heard the stories of her past.
But now, after seeing her in action, there would never be any doubt as to the validity of those stories.

They believed her stories about her athletic prowess because at around 75 years old
they watched as she outskated a much younger woman at the roller rink. Because my mother was incredibly competitive.

But her best stories come out of her just being herself.

— Music ends —

When my sister Camille and I were young kids, Mommy
would tell us something then say, like a friend says and proceed to elaborate on something or explain

It was a very frequent thing.

Cammy and I would sort of look at one another …

Privately we’d wonder,
how many friends does mommy have?
Are they the same people always telling her these things?
Just something we wondered about for years.
It wasn’t until we were much older when we came to realize,
Wait, say that again, mommy,

Like a friend says

One more time

(exaggerated)Likay For instants

Mommy was saying for instance. All these years, it was just her accent that made us think she was saying like a friend says

I got into lots of trouble because of that accent.
Like the time she sent me to the store for Epson Salt and I came home with Eggs and Salt!

Teasing my mom and imitating her accent was and will always be one of the things that bring me joy.

As a kid, it got lots of laughs from her and my father so of course I continued.

Now, don’t get it twisted, my mom was to be taken seriously. She just had a cool way of combining the serious and the sweet.

As a child growing up dealing with lots of invasive doctor visits and exams under anesthesia, Mommy made them special. But first, she had to teach.

At each appointment from the time I was very young, it was my responsibility to sign myself in at the doctor’s office,
make sure no one was being seen before me,
even ask them to put the next set of drops in to assure everything stayed on schedule
I hated it because I was the only child doing that.
Isn’t this your job, I thought!

I realized later what she did and why.

She was a natural fighter and wanted to make sure her children were capable of standing up for themselves.
Showing me, not telling me how to do it!

But every visit was followed by either two hot dogs, a soft pretzel and a bottle of my favorite drink, Yoo Hoo, at that time.
On more special occasions, she’d take me to a restaurant. We shared memories of those times together later in life.

I looked forward to these appointments and
later learned how different that was from how other kids experienced these things.

Mommy, was an optimist.
She saw good in people but at the same time
she’s not going to fall for your nonsense.

— DJ scratch launches into a smooth beat! —

“So where you from?”

TR:

She was small, yet strong.

Definitely a bit heavy handed sometimes, but yet she had a delicate touch.
As a child it made everything better.
So much so that as an adult you still sought that comfort she could provide.

— “Marcy Son! Just thought I’d remind y’all!” Jay-Z lyric pans from left to right —

TR:

She was Mommy to my sister and I , Abuela to her grandchildren, Chela to her siblings and those who knew her back in the day.

If you knew her, I’m certain Marcy was someone special to you.
chances are you were impacted by her in some way.
even if you were the woman in Arthur Treacherss.

No seriously, on multiple occasions after the argument almost turned brawl, they’d see each other in the mall. And my mom would stare her down.

Esa vieja or the old lady as my mother called her, meanwhile I’m pretty sure my mother was older than her.

Today, something is and will forever be missing
not only in our families hearts
but honestly, the world feels a little emptier without her here.

There’s just places she’s supposed to be…
A family gathering, a rosary in her apartment, planning something here at Saint Michael’s .
That makes me very sad

But I’m so proud and happy that I will always be
El Hijo de Marcy, Marcy’s son!

— DJ scratch leads into “Marcy Son! Just thought I’d remind y’all” panned left —-

— DJ scratch leads into “Marcy Son” panned right—-

TR:
R E I D!

(D” and that’s me in the place to be, Slick Rick)

TR:

We Love You Mommy!

— Reid My Mind Radio outro

TR:
May you rest in peace!

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