Not goodbye - see you again....

Today is Mom's memorial service. It will be held at Little Sisters, where Mom lived for the past 5 years. It will be a Catholic service, and I have been asked to play. Thank God for Melissa Singer-Reed, who will sing Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone) for me. I would have never made it through the first line...

I want to take a minute to tell you about my Mom. It will not be a complete history of her life, just who Mom was in my eyes. I hope that I can give you a glimpse as to who she was, and why I am who I am.

Mom was born in St. Bernard, in a Red farm house on Church Street a block from St. Clement church. The house still stands today. She lived there with her sister Marge and her brother Robert, her mother and her grand parents. Mom never talked about her father much, and while I don't know the whole story it was my impression that he was either an alcoholic, abusive to her mother, or both.

I bring this up only to point out that even in the early 1920's there were broken homes and difficulties. One is not required to become bitter or a "victim of society" because you come from a broken home. My Mom is proof that you make your own way, despite the conditions of your childhood or whatever obstacles you may find in your way. My wife is another example of that - I respect them both for the way they have made their own way in life and have become good, honorable and wonderful people regardless of the circumstances that once effected their lives.

Mom met Dad while she worked at Willis Music downtown. Dad, a 3rd generation Italian (yes, Questa with a "Q" is Italian), married my mother and they - after they could afford to - bought a house in St. Bernard in the "Old Subdivision" (dubbed after a new subdivision was constructed in the 70's). Mom worked various clerical office jobs - dad landed employment at Proctor and Gamble's Ivorydale Plant (now called the St. Bernard Soap Company - ironically the location where a workman's error whipped air into the soap causing it to float in water, thereby making it one of the most popular consumer products of the time).

They held off to start a family until much later in life. Mom was 39 when she gave birth to Dona Marie Questa. Tragically, my older sister died only 5 days after birth, falling victim to a staff infection she contracted in the hospital. I can't imagine how devastating this time was, and those who have told me bits and pieces told me that my mother was very strong during this time, even though she was obviously distraught about the apparently senseless death of a baby. I can only assume it was because of her faith.

2 years later in 1964 I was born (God help us all). I must have been a holy terror as I experienced colic and was a constant bother to my parents as a baby. There were two things that would calm and sooth me - a ride in the car, and listening to music. In fact, in order to get me to sleep my parents put my crib under a speaker and they would play music to get me to sleep. I am convinced this is also why I am musically inclined, as I listened to music from the time I was born.

Vault ahead to 1974. I was 10 years old. I remember that my parents friend and neighbor picked me up from school that day, and as inquisitive as I was at the time I'm sure I drove everyone nuts trying to find out why there was something different. Dad had a heart attack, and was in the hospital. Mom did everything she could to make life "normal" for me, while I'm sure things were everything but normal with the love of her life in the hospital.

Dad came home a few days later, but it didn't last long. Just a few weeks later, I heard Dad yell for Mom while he was in the shower, and then a crash. Mom went running, then yelled to me to go get Tom (our next door neighbor and paramedic for St. Bernard). I peered in to see mom holding dad as he shivered, the look on her face very worried. I went and got Tom, and within a matter of a few minutes dad was on his way back to the hospital. He suffered a stroke.

For those of you who don't know, strokes can and often do adversely effect the personality of the victim. Dad changed from a loving husband and father into a very bitter and angry man. It was obvious to me - and Mom - that he was frustrated that he couldn't do the things he used to do. He was considered permanently disabled, so he could no longer work at P&G, could no longer serve in his position in city government (member of the City of St. Bernard board of health, then elected to City Council, member of the St. Bernard Kawanis, just to name a few things he did).

I can't tell you how many times things exploded in our household. Dad once pulled a knife and chased me through the house (although I don't think he would have ever used it). He also threw door knobs (solid glass and metal objects that would certainly have killed me if I was to be hit in the head) and broke items in fits of rage. But through all of this, Mom took to heart the vows she made when they were married so many years ago. It was "recommended" many times that Dad be institutionalized, but Mom always refused. "For better or worse, in sickness and in health" meant everything to Mom.

Through all of this, Mom did everything in her power to maintain my standard of living. Even though our income was drastically reduced, she still put me through Catholic grade and high school. She continued to nurture my musical talents, driving me all over the Midwest so I could continue to perform at trade fairs, Disabled American Veteran conventions, TV shows, shopping malls - even sat for hours at the "Hot Shoppes Cafeteria" in the Tri County mall twice a week while I played the organ and made some cash for myself, all they while taking Dad wherever we went.

It is these things - the way she made my life as normal as possible, teaching me right from wrong, driving home the importance of being responsible, ethical, and moral, the importance of family, and all the while leading by example that when you vow to love someone unconditionally, you must honor your vow. I am who I am because of my Mother. I would admit that I am not nearly as good at these things and dealing with adversity as my Mother was, but I continue to try everyday to live up to her example. It's a very high bar, and I hope one day I'll be able to reach it.

Mom and I didn't always see eye to eye of course. She really hated my long hair, but she got the last word on that one, didn't she? I was genuinely upset at her for a long time because we lost the only bit of financial security I was to have when we were forced to sell the family home. But I loved her dearly. I will miss her. I hope I did the right thing by her, especially over the last two weeks of her life when I did what I thought she would have wanted me to do for her - to honor her wishes.

I am who I am today because of my Mother. My musical ability, my work ethic, my attitudes, and beliefs - everything I am, I am because of my Mother. If I have done anything to positively effect your life, it is because of who She was and how She raised me. Feel free to thank her. :)

I love you Mom. When you talk to God, please tell him that I'm worth helping while I'm on Earth, and worth keeping when I leave this existence. Enjoy your rest in Heaven - you certainly deserve it.

With much love,

Your son