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I dedicate my initial blog in memory of my Grandmommy, my Mother's mom who went to be with her Savior on July 16, 2007. The beautiful eulogy given below was by my Aunt Cathy, my Mother's eldest sister. My hope is to be remembered with even half the wonderful qualities of this truly lovely and Godly woman. She was an inspiration and such a blessing to us all. Her joy, strength, and beauty both inward and outward will remain in our hearts forever. It was an honor to be her granddaughter.
I hope you might take the time to read ....(My Mom's name is Monica as you will find her referenced below if you don't already know her name)
“Let not your adornment be outward only, but let it be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable quality of a gentle and quiet spirit which is precious in the sight of God.” Words from I Peter. 3: 3-4
My early memories of Mother are of a beautiful small woman with gorgeous dark, thick wavy hair and creamy skin… but there was much more to my Mother than outward beauty. She was a woman of incredible inner strength, and a woman who literally gave her life to the raising of her family.
She and Daddy met on Pearl Harbor Day. They were both in Washington D.C., he was a young attorney with the Department of Justice, and she was with the Selective Service Department. He actually had a date with her roommate that night, but her roommate was called in to work because of the Pearl Harbor incident. So when he showed up for the roommate, it was Mother who answered the door and explained that “Alice” had been called in to work. Daddy told us many times over the years that he had never seen such an Irish beauty before and that for him, it was love at first sight. So he asked her to go out with him instead, and Mother countered with “I already have a date.” But our father was a patient and tenacious gentleman, so he waited around for her date to arrive and managed to bribe him with a nice bottle of Scotch for the trade. The rest is history. They were married the following year.
Mother soon became pregnant with our oldest brother Eddie, but the war was on and Daddy had to go before his first child was born. So Mother was left to give birth to and raise a child on her own and to wonder if his father would ever be coming home. There was no email, no phone calling, no way to know where he was, only the hope that a letter would arrive. During this period Mother and her baby Eddie left Seattle and her parents to come to Texas to help our Aunt Caroline with Daddy’s ailing mother. It was then that she established her roots in Texas. Eddie was 18 months old when the family finally became one. Mother and Daddy were blissfully reunited, and they, with their beautiful baby boy with blonde curls were the start of what was to one day become a family of ten---the Cage Clan. They would never be separated again for any length of time for the next 60 years.
The babies began to show up and we outgrew our small house on Amherst. I do remember a few things about Mother during those Amherst days. I remember watching her hang the clothes up to dry on the line in the back yard, but I don’t have any idea where she washed them. I remember her and the milkman trying to get my smashed thumb out of the refrigerator door while I screamed and little Kerry cried. She had come in from hanging clothes on the line to find me stuck in the refrigerator door. Fortunately the milkman appeared on the scene and knew how to disengage the lock on the door. I remember that she and I had matching yellow sundresses with bumblebees on them, and I was sad when I outgrew mine but she didn’t outgrow hers. I remember 3 children sleeping in one tiny bedroom (Eddie Cathy and Kerry), but if one of us was sick, Mother would move our bed to her room.
When I was 4 years old, I was in danger of bleeding to death as a result of complications from a tonsillectomy. I recall the trauma and being rushed back to the hospital… my screaming, the frenzy, and the bright lights and the doctors all over me shoving things down my throat. I later came to in a little bed, and the first thing I saw was my beautiful Mother calmly sitting there, with tears in her eyes and an open prayer book in her hand. She was asking God to save her little girl. How could I have known how much she had already endured in her life at that time, and how could I have known the measure her character in the midst of this pain? I couldn’t; I was just a child, and she was just my Mother. But I knew that I was glad she was there, next to me. I know now that it was her close relationship with God that sustained and comforted her.
So off to a bigger home we went with another baby on the way. Sister Monica arrived when I was in first grade; we had a lovely new home with a big yard and a precious new baby girl who we adored. Life was good; I remember that time as being very happy. Mother told me more than once that she had always wanted to have four children. Daddy would chime in with, “So did I, that’s why we each got 4.” Baby Theresa showed up within 2 years, and we moved in to the “They have a big family category.” She was a beautiful giggling baby with curls all over her head and became Monica’s best friend, or accomplice. Mother’s days were hectic for sure, with 5 young children to care for …but care for us she did. We were always wearing shoes that fit, had regular physicals and dental checkups and were enrolled in whatever activity she felt suited us…art lessons, camp, swimming, dancing lessons. Somehow she managed.
Mother was shy, gentle and sweet, but she had a tough streak when she needed it. One day, as two or three of us got off the bus after school to start the nearly one-mile walk home, she turned the corner in her 49 Chevy and pulled over. She had wanted to be there to give us a ride on that hot day and had timed it just right. Well, we thought we were so clever and funny at that age, smart alecs that we were, and I yelled, “Hey Ma! Hey Ma! How bout a ride?” Well, one thing she didn’t like was to be called Ma, and we knew that. So she put that Chevy in first gear and drove on home…fast. We walked in the heat. Don’t mess with the Irish.
I recall vividly my sixth grade year at Christ the King School; I had auditioned and been selected to be in the Christmas Stage Choir…I know that Mother was especially shocked because I could not and still can’t carry a tune. The performance was scheduled for December 9. She lovingly put my hair in curlers the night before so I would be pretty. It was very exciting. The next morning I was awakened by a family friend who told me it was time to get up and get ready for school and that I had a new baby brother. I was filled with joy and sang my heart out at the performance. That night…my dear, sweet, altruistic Mother called me from the hospital to apologize….apologize for missing my performance! She felt she had let me down. But she was going to be bringing me the best Christmas gift I could ever hope for, a baby brother named Christopher Brennan. There was no need to apologize; I was ecstatic. It was just another display of her selflessness and her concern for her children.
However, that once-new and spacious house was starting to fill up.
Then the unbelievable happened! At the age of 40, Mother had twins…twin girls. I don’t remember ever seeing a bigger smile on Daddy’s face than when I came home from school that day and he told me the news. They each had 4 now. I recall going to school that morning, knowing that she was going to the hospital. We were each invited in to say goodbye to her and to give her a kiss…while she sat at her dressing table and put her makeup on. Yes, she put her makeup on to go have her babies. Mother always cared about her grooming.
When she arrived home with two tiny, sweet baby girls named Virginia and Veronica, I was allowed to carry one of them into the home. I was 14 ½ by that time and had become mother’s helper. A couple of days later, she called me in to the bedroom and told me to “Choose one.” I said “Choose one?” She said, “Yes, you need to help me and you might as well just choose one.” I said, “Well, which one do you want?” She said, “They’re both really cute. I don’t care…but this one cries a little more.” I took the other one. Mother, the twins and I, became a foursome. We traveled to Iowa to visit her sister Ramona and our cousins on the train together when the babies were just over a year old. We were in a tiny room with bunk beds and somehow managed the 18 hour trip with one feverish baby, and one continually falling out of the top bunk, and both screaming all the way. But her wonderful humor was always there, even in the toughest of situations. I remember laughing hysterically with her when, after about 10 hours of this train ride, she looked around the little berth and said, “Whoever designed this place didn’t waste an inch.” The good news was that after a week in Iowa, we got to do it again. I have somehow managed to block out the memory of the return trip.
The birth of the twins necessitated the move to Prestonridge, a grand 7 bedroom home that could accommodate our size. It was to be Mother’s home for over 30 years.
Mother’s health began to fail when the twins were young; she had no stamina and MS was beginning to take hold of her. She had her ups and downs, periods when she felt good and periods when she was weak and tired. But she carried on with grace and humor and with the love of her husband always at her side. Some of you here today only knew a feeble, sweet, and witty Eileen Cage. But there was an inner strength in this tough little Irish woman, a love for parties and dancing with our Dad, and a determination to deal with whatever came her way.
And, you can imagine with 8 children that there were “incidents.” Yes, incidents a plenty.
Kerry, especially, had a knack for getting into strange accidents, broken arms, a fishhook into his lip, a stick puncturing his eye, a broken milk bottle slicing his ankle. While Daddy would be a nervous wreck with these types of things, it was, oddly enough, Mother who remained calm in the time of crisis. She was normally a high-strung, nervous individual, but when the big things happened, she always pulled it together. As I was writing this tribute, I queried my siblings, asking them if there was something they wanted mentioned or something about Mother that they hold as special to them. Kerry, Mr. Accident, wrote the following: “I thought of something earlier today. When we took mother to the emergency room a couple months ago with the horrible skin tear that needed to be stitched, she was apologizing to me because I had to take time out to be there. I told her that she took me in for stitches lots of times and that I owed her one. She chuckled and acknowledged that she did have to take me quite a few times.” That was typical of her endearing attitude, all the way until the end of her life. She managed to laugh, no matter what. And she always worried that she might have inconvenienced one of us, even though she had spent a lifetime caring for us.
One response that came from the girls in the family was how much they loved the special shopping trips with Mother to downtown, to have lunch with Daddy at Titche’s or Neiman Marcus. It was our quality time with her…our one-on-one time with her…something that was hard to get at home. Monica’s one on one time was during Theresa’s naptime when she and mom watched the afternoon movie. She would take Monica’s little feet and rub them together to the beat of the theme song.
It was truly wonderful that Mother managed to find that one on one time for us so that each of us thought we were special.
All of the eight of us remember her reading to us. She loved books and we were at the library regularly. We all remember those trips to the bookmobile or the local library. Chris recalls her reading Bennie the Bear and the Sword and the Stone to him; Ronni remembers Three Little Kittens and Puss N Boots, and I remember as a young girl, my brother Eddie commenting to me that when Mother reads, “She reads with the best expression. It’s like you can hear the people in the story talking.”
Several siblings recalled (myself included) the morning wakeup call over the intercom we had in our big new house: Every morning we woke to: Ring a ling a ling…ring a ling a ling…time to get up for school….do you want mustard or mayonnaise? Mother was not big on technology but she picked right up on how to use the intercom.
The most entertaining response I got to my appeal was pretty much across the board. Everyone recalled having ice cream sundaes or milkshakes with her at one of the many soda fountains in the city. For me and Eddie it was the Country Club Pharmacy on Lovers Lane, others wrote to me about their special times at Preston Royal Pharmacy, Walgreens, Woolworth’s soda fountain, Red Rawley’s , Skillerns, Kel’s Kitchen, Baskin Robbins and Ashburns. As these emails came in to me yesterday, I just had to laugh. This little tiny lady was enjoying her ice cream all over the city and making each of us think we were special. Looking at the big picture now, I think she just liked ice cream.
She made an effort to bring culture to our lives, taking us to musicals, operas and symphonies…museums and exhibits. She tried teaching us the proper table manners…how to use a soup spoon and which fork to pick up, because we might be “embarrassed” one day if we were at a formal dinner party. I remember little Ginny saying the soup just didn’t taste as good if you held the spoon that way. We simply were not trainable.
Mother longed for peace and often couldn’t handle the noise level in our home. Who could blame her? One of her frequent utterances was, “Blessed are the peacemakers.”
Monica remembers her nurturing, compassionate handling of us when we were sick. She always had a cold washcloth for our feverish heads and a bowl of cherry jello to help us feel better. But it was Mother who needed to feel better, and we watched her over the years struggle with her disease and her failing health. She never complained; she just took it in stride. She was forced to allow people to assist her in the last years, and she always thanked them and apologized for inconveniencing them. Theresa commented that she never wanted to burden anyone and how she had always treated the employees of Signature Pointe and Collin Oaks with respect, never acting superior and always wanting to introduce her family to them, even if they were just coming in to empty the trash. Theresa had seen that sweet and gentle spirit still intact at the end of her life. We children were not the only recipients of her kindness.
Several of the grandchildren gave me input saying she was sweet; she was funny; she giggled a lot; she played cards with me….And Theresa’s 13 year old daughter Audrey gave me the three words that summed up Eileen Cage: She never complained.
For me, my fondest memory of Mother and the one I will keep forever, is seeing her walk down the hall dressed in her black satin dress just 3 weeks after the twins were born, smelling of Chanel #5, radiant and beautiful, and ready to go dancing with her husband, the love of her life. They’re dancing the last dance together now, forever wrapped in the loving arms of the Lord.
1 comments:
Wow, what a woman and what an amazing tribute!
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