I hope this message finds you well as you step into 2024.
This month, I’m writing about a more personal aspect of my life than I usually do, the passing of my mother on December 19, 2023, and the eulogy I shared at her funeral and memorial.
As some of my friends and family know, my relationship with my mother, Geraldine Elaine Quartner, was complicated. At some point, I had to come to terms with who she was and understand the circumstances that shaped her into the person and mother she became – factors probably beyond her control. I chose to forgive her and recognize that she did the best she could with the resources available to her.
When I spoke at my mother’s funeral and memorial, my intention was to be honest about my experience, compassionate, add a bit of humor, and highlight her positive qualities that I hope will live on in her descendants.
Throughout my grieving process, I found comfort in two guided meditations: one on forgiveness and another called the Four Reflections. The latter addresses the preciousness of human life, the inevitability of death, the certainty of suffering, and the impact of our thoughts, words, and actions. Feel free to email me if you’d like to explore either of these practices.
If you are interested, the eulogy I shared is below and click here to read my mother’s obituary.
Kind regards,
Cathy
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Thank you for joining us this evening. It means a lot to have friends and family here with us during this time. As many of you are aware, my relationship with my mother was quite complicated so, in tonight’s talk about my mother’s life, I’d like to convey three things:
- First: may my mother’s memory be for a blessing and may her positive qualities live on in her children, grandchildren, and their descendants.
- Second: to honor that my mother did her best and wanted to make sure we had everything she didn’t have. And to recognize the importance of forgiveness and understand that it can take a lifetime, at least in my case, to fully understand where someone was coming from, what forces shaped who they were, and what gifts they had to offer.
- Third: to honor and remember the moments of lightness my mother shared with her family, community, friends, and the world.
First: May my mother’s good qualities live on in all her descendants.
Growing up we were all afraid of and in awe of my mother. She was beautiful, fiercely competitive, always an optimist, and pretty tough on us. She was an operational genius with a creative flair.
The superpowers my mother gave the three of us, my sister Rachael, my brother Jonathan, and me, live on in her grandchildren today. These include a strong backbone, a sense of confidence, a positive and can-do attitude, and the ability to believe in and stand up for oneself.
My mother would often brag to anyone who would listen to her that she raised us to be independent and able to navigate any tough situation. That in fact, we could be dropped anywhere in the Sahara Desert, the largest hot desert in the world, and find our way out. She was very proud of this fact.
Now, let me share a story about how my mother’s backbone, inherited from her own mother, continues to live on in my son, Ari, and daughter, Gabi …
During high school, Ari had a track and field coach who was a bit of a bully, and everyone, including the parents, was afraid of him. Ari had been experiencing severe back pain as a result of the long distance runs. And after finishing up the first part of his practice one day, Ari informed his coach that he couldn’t proceed with the second part of the practice, the long-distance run due to the pain and was scheduled for a CAT scan the next day. The coach responded by stating that in his time, that wouldn’t have been okay. That, in fact, the coach would have continued running despite the pain and injury. Ari looked him in the eye and responded, “Well coach, I guess they just don’t make them like they used to.”
Now I’ll share a story about Gabi, which as two parts.
Part one … Ari played clarinet in middle school and had a special recital that required him to complete three practices in order to attend. No exceptions. And even though I had the practices on my calendar, I completely forgot about them. So when Ari came home from school that day he told me he was no longer able to participate in the recital. He was very upset. So, I did what most parents would do, and called the orchestra teacher and told him I had screwed up, it was 100% my fault, not Ari’s, and asked him to make an exception. He absolutely refused to budge. He said he wouldn’t make an exception for Ari because then he would have to do that for other kids. Then I said, “Can I ask you a question, do you have kids?” And he said, “Yes.” And I said, “Have you ever made a really careless, stupid mistake that your kids had to pay for?” And then he said, “Okay – Ari can still make the recital, just don’t tell anyone.”
Part two of this story is with the same orchestra teacher …In middle school, when Gabi was about 12 years old, she played stand-up bass. She was at practice one day and a classmate shared that the orchestra teacher had just taken a picture of Gabi leaning against her stand-up bass, without her permission. When Gabi heard this, she marched over to the teacher and informed him how inappropriate it was to take a picture of her without her permission, demanded to see his phone, had him erase the picture, and told him she would report him to the authorities. She was 12 years old. Within an hour, I received a frantic call from the orchestra teacher worried that he was going to lose his job and his pension. I am definitely proud of what Gabi did, and yet I did have to deal with a very frightened teacher and remind him that it was me, Ari’s mom, and I owed him one because he let Ari attend that special recital. He still didn’t seem too relieved and called me once more to check back in.
Second: Our mother tried to provide us with a better life than she had.
My mother came from humble means. Her father worked as a truck driver and later a cab driver, while her mother, was a beautician. She was born on October 25, 1943, and my grandfather tells the story that when my grandmother gave birth, the doctor congratulated him on having a girl and then handed him some whiskey, suggesting he sit down and take a shot because there was another one on the way. And from then on, my mother and her identical twin sister Harriet became known as “the twins”. My mother and her twin were an unshakeable force. They had their own secret language as children, and throughout their lives, they never ventured more than a few miles from each other. Growing up, I intuitively understood that this was and would always have been my mother’s closest connection and relationship.
When my mother referred to her upbringing, she would talk about cardboard in her shoes and wearing hand me down clothing. She desperately wanted to make a better life for herself, so she started her adult life as an x-ray technician until she met my father. The two of them ran a successful laundromat business.
While my mother wanted a better life for herself, she also wanted us to have every opportunity she didn’t have. Growing up I felt a bit like a renaissance kid. My mother made sure I had piano, flute, ballet, arts and crafts, and swimming lessons – and many sports camps – tennis, volleyball, basketball, and even sailing.
As a child, I escaped through reading books and solving math problems. And even though my mother didn’t attend college she encouraged me to seek a career through higher education. I remember asking her what the difference between a college and a university was. This was before Google existed, and we didn’t know. So, she hired a college counselor to help me figure things out and ultimately find my way to Emory College and University of Chicago Business School.
As a young adult, I rebelled in every way possible. And to some extent, my education became my ticket out of Baltimore and a way to explore the greater world, different cultures, and find my own way. Which deep down my mother knew was different than hers.
Through my grieving process, I came to understand that I combined my father’s passion for business with my mother’s strong back bone to become an executive coach specializing in helping leaders develop executive presence and resiliency. And it’s not a coincidence that I married Brad, a non-materialistic, intellectual, hilarious, Jewish family man.
And I can see my parent’s values and skills playing out in the lives of our daughter Gabi, an artist, Zionist leader, and future physician and in my son, Ari, a code monkey who has formed a start-up with his cousin Josh, combining their brain power and relationship skills in the field of AI to hopefully one day make a small fortune.
And third: May we remember the moments of lightness my mother shared with her family, community, friends, and the world.
I will be forever grateful to Erna and Natasha, two sisters who came to my mother’s and our aid in my mother’s final stage of life when she started experiencing the symptoms of cognitive and physical decline. In my opinion, Erna, Tasha, and ironically enough, Alzheimer’s, returned my mother to the truest sense of herself … someone who was unconditionally kind, thoughtful, and loving. When we spoke, she would often end the call by saying something like, “Do you need anything?” Or “Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay.” And she recently told my son and nephew, “Don’t worry about about your career so much, just find a nice girl and have a good family, that’s all that really matters.”
Right before my mother passed away, my daughter Gabi and I went to see her. I could see how much she was suffering and how vulnerable she was, which made me realize that we’re all vulnerable. Despite our best efforts, none of us escape suffering or death. So, in the end, I was ready to forgive her, and it just came naturally. There was only love and a woman who had tried her best to give us what she never had and thought we needed for a better life. It takes a lifetime to understand someone, and in my case it really did. So many factors shape who we are and how we show up in the world – often influenced by forces beyond our own control.
So, in closing, I want to capture the values that mattered to my mother and may they live on in all of her descendants, and be her legacy …
- Family First. Be there for your family in sickness and in health, my mother was devoted to and took care of my father during two very serious illnesses.
- Honor Your Roots and Values, specifically community, volunteering, and donating to charities like Team Julia CMTA and charities that support Jewish causes and Israel.
- Work hard. Don’t Give Up. Be Resilient. Fall down nine times, get up ten.
- Stand Up for Yourself and Don’t Take Shit from Anyone. But be nice about (I’m adding this part!).
- Show Appreciation and Gratitude. Always write thank you notes.
- Appreciate Your Host or Hostess. On a recent trip to her twin sister’s home, my mother, even with Alzheimer’s, on the way out the door took a picture off of her own wall to bring because she didn’t want to show up empty handed!
- Love of Beauty and all joyful things – like sports, art, music, travel, and nature.
- Change is Possible. Everyone can change – in their own time and in their own way.
- And last but not least, Make Your Dog Your Best Friend.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for listening. May my mother’s memory be for a blessing.