Things That Make You Go...Sniffle

This is the eulogy my oldest cousin Scott gave at his mother's memorial service. I had to share it here (hope you don't mind, Scott) to show you all how loved my Auntie Charleen was.

Thank you all for coming today.

We are here to celebrate the life and mourn the passing of Charlene Emma Suggs Osborn – or as I’ve always know her – “mom”

I’m not sure how you are supposed to summarize the life of someone that you have known, respected, and loved your entire life. No mater what words you come up with, they don’t seem to be adequate.

Mom was born almost 72 years ago in Arkansas. She said that she was born in a town called Monkey Run – I don’t know if that is or isn’t the case, but I always thought that it sounded cool when I was a kid.

Soon after that the family moved to Dayton. She went to school and graduated from Kaiser high school where she met my dad – and, as they say, “the rest is history.”

She worked at TRW Globe Motors where she was the office manager. One day she was asked to work on the assembly line during a strike. They quickly decided that someone needed to be in the office when she grabbed the wrong end of a soldering iron.

A few years after that, Terry and I came along. Mom was always a good mother. I don’t remember her ever spanking us – she could just look at you and you knew you were doing something that you shouldn’t be doing. She did have some unusual parenting techniques – I don’t think I’ve ever known of anyone who had peanut butter put in their belly button when they were acting up. And I don’t know of anyone who was ever told to “put a belt on it” when they lost a button on their shirt – she said she thought I lost the button on my pants instead of my shirt.

As much as she cared for Terry and I, we eventually took second seat (or so we thought) when Licorice Lady the 12th arrived. She was our family dog. When we first got her, mom told us to make sure we never fed her from the table. But, after a while she was sneaking her food under the table – and it really became embarrassing when she would go to Dairy Queen and order her a cup of ice cream without the spoon. And she was a great grandma to our kids.

I think it’s safe to say that, whether you are family, a friend, or an acquaintance, it is obvious to everyone that my mother was honest, kind, caring, smart, loved a spirited discussion, and treated everyone with respect. They say that, when you come to your final days, you care more about your loved ones than you do about work, your home, cars, money, or many other things that we Americans seem to think are important. It is pretty safe to say that my mother lived her life like that every day.

Even though we are sad that she is gone from here, we know that she is in a better place. When I looked at her on line obituary, there was a quote on the web site that said: Next to silence, that which comes closest to expressing the inexpressible is music.

That seemed to make a lot of sense – because the words from a song have been going through my head for the past few weeks. They are the chorus of a song by Mike Weaver (the lead singer for a band called Big Daddy Weave). Mike and Big Daddy Weave started out as a band just down the street from where our family goes to church. In one of their early songs titled Neighborhoods, the chorus says:

‘Cause you know one day I will fly To my mansion in the sky
And I'll have no regrets when I leave this place for good
When I say my last farewell oh, please don't forget to tell them
That I'm not really dead I'm just changing neighborhoods

Today we are here to mark the passing of my mother. And we will naturally morn for a while. But we should also realize and celebrate that she has also changed neighborhoods. And she has gone to a neighborhood that we will eventually go to.

So, mom – today we don’t say good by – we say that we love you, and we will see you again.

Thank you.