The Power of Hope

When someone grieves the passing a loved one, it’s natural to seek out ways to connect with that person, or to find ways to ease the pain, if only for a moment. Since losing Jeff 21 years ago in the worst terrorist attack in our nation’s history, I’ve kept a journal. In the journal I write letters to Jeff. These letters are the way I’ve connected with him in my heart. Entries are far less frequent these days, but every once in a while I have a one-sided conversation with him through the written word. Recently I’ve added a few more entries, telling him about our 2 daughters’ marriages within 4 months of each other, and our new grand babies, one born 2 years ago and 2 born this summer just 8 days apart.

Meaghan gave me one of those journals. On each page of the journal is a quote about hope, and she wrote a beautiful message inside that of course made me cry. Her words inspired me to write about Hope.

I define hope as a look toward a positive outcome that we create in our mind. Sometimes it comes true; sometimes not. But without it, there would be little meaning in our lives and even the smallest obstacles would seem unmanageable.  There would be no reason to take the next step. Hope is what gets us through the day. It has gotten me through the last 21 years, my 40 years before 9/11, and will guide me through the next phase of my life.

We find hope in the little things and translate them into signs that bring us comfort. We might see a spiritual connotation in a dragonfly, believing its our loved ones stopping by to say hello. When some find a penny on the sidewalk, they’ll pick it up, adding it to their collection of pennies from heaven. In a rainbow stretched across the cloudy sky mixed with the sun’s rays, we may feel it’s a sign that our loved one is watching over us. A heart-shaped rock found on the beach brings warmth from within, and we treasure it as if it’s a personal gift from our loved one. All these little signs bring us hope.

So many changes have occurred in my life since September 11, 2001 – the day we all thought hope was gone when our lives were devastated with an event so horrific even today we sometimes sit back and think “I can’t believe this happened.” But as we learned to grieve and accepted the new life forced upon us, we reluctantly began to realize that life must go on. Changes would happen, both good and bad, and we would find a way to welcome the good ones and live with the bad; we would come to celebrate the good changes and embrace them. Through those changes we find comfort in memories, revisited often as we experience different phases of our lives.

My hope over the years was that our children would grow to be happy, healthy, compassionate and kind people. They’ve grown to be young adults of whom their dad would be proud, as am I. Hope and a lot of prayers got me through the good times, and especially the difficult years raising 3 children alone. Momentous occasions in our lives are so bittersweet and even though with each one there are tears of sadness, they are mostly tears of joy. In the kids’ weddings we found ways to subtly honor their father who would have taken enormous pride in seeing his 3 children marry their soulmates.  The two grandsons (who along with our grand daughter bring us so much hope) each bears Jeff’s middle name as their own middle name. As I watch my children today, 21 years later, I marvel at how much they remind me of their dad, how they’ve acquired some of his mannerisms, how their laugh can be strikingly similar, and how a glance at my son sometimes can be a reminder that he truly is his father’s son. While it’s been difficult on so many levels, I’m encouraged by their ability to fully live their lives despite the incredibly traumatic loss they’ve experienced. I’ve done my best to help them, as they’ve helped me find ways to remember and to live a life Jeff would have wanted for us. A life filled with love, adventure and hope.

As we remember 9/11 today, I ask you to keep hope alive during these difficult times, and remember and honor those who died that day, simply by being kind. Pay it forward with a simple random act of kindness.  

The Real Meaning of Memorial Day

 Last week in more than 80 degree heat, 100 volunteers helped Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund create its 12th Annual Garden of Flags on the Boston Common. In non-covid times, this would have involved 700 volunteers and taken 90 minutes, but because of state regulations, we had a smaller crew of first responders, veterans and health care workers. Over the course of 11 hours, the sloping ground from the base of the Sailors and Soldiers' Memorial was covered with 37,342 American Flags. Each of these flags represents a service member who died in service, or as a result of service, since the Revolutionary War. Each represents a family that has grieved their loss, and too many who still do.

Memorial Day is a time to remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice. Its meaning over the years has been lost to mattress and car sales, to bbqs and opening summer homes. Few acknowledge what Memorial Day stands for as they greet people with "Happy Memorial Day!" Town parades that honor the fallen draw sparse crowds. 

Meanwhile, families of  those who've served and died endure the once well-intended National Holiday with appreciation for the respect some offer, and with tolerance as they repeatedly hear Happy Memorial Day. 

One of our inspirations in creating this flag garden 12 years ago, in addition to wanting to honor our grieving military families, was to help remind people that Memorial Day has a solemn meaning. Its significance matters to Gold Star families and the families who've lost loved ones as a result of PTS-related suicides, training and other accidental deaths while serving, and disease caused by exposure while serving. Therefore, its meaning should matter to us.

We hope, and we think displays like the flag garden help drive home the true meaning of the day. I wrote the following blog a few years ago, but it bears repeating annually.

Memorial Day was designated in 1868 by General John Logan as a day to honor soldiers killed in battle. It was originally called Decoration Day, as 5000 volunteers decorated the graves of the 20,000 Union and Confederate soldiers buried at Arlington.  The day was designated for the "purpose of strewing with flowers, or otherwise decorating the graves of comrades who died in defense of their country," according to General Logan, the national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic.  

Simply put, it's a day to remember the fallen -- those who gave the ultimate sacrifice in service to our country. 

It wasn't intended to be a day for department store sales and sheer fun, rather a day to honor and remember, and a day to reflect on the heroism of those who served and died for our country. When and how did "Happy Memorial Day" become the accepted sentiment?  Would you ever say Happy Pearl Harbor Day, or Happy September 11, or Happy Anniversary on the anniversary of a loved-one's death?  It would seem insensitive and inappropriate to give such a greeting.  It's no different with Memorial Day.

No one discourages a celebration of the weekend that signifies the unofficial start to summer or gatherings of family and friends, but just take some time to acknowledge its meaning -- attend a parade that honors our fallen, take your children to a local memorial and explain why the names are engraved on that wall, let them help plant flags on a veteran's grave, create your own symbolic flag garden at your home or your neighborhood. Teach them to respect the sacrifice the service members made as they bravely faced the enemy in defense of our country -- an enemy that comes in many different forms.

Memorial Day is also often confused with Veterans Day, and many will use it as a time to say thank you to Veterans and active duty/reservists.  While it's always appropriate to show our appreciation to veterans and current military, Veterans Day, Nov. 11, is the day designated for thanking a vet.  Reserve Memorial Day for remembering the fallen -- "Memorial" does suggest a remembrance of someone no longer here.

The Flag Garden on the Boston Common is a beautiful and poignant reminder of the real meaning of Memorial Day. The idea came from a story told about the impact 3000 flags had on my daughter, a young college student away from home for her first time on the anniversary of 9/11, the day that took her father from her.  From there, the germ of an idea was born, and the first annual Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund garden of 20,000 flags quickly grew.

 Now more than 37,000 flags cascade down from the Sailors and Soldiers Memorial until Tuesday, the day after Memorial Day.  37,000.  It's a big number, and one that is hard to comprehend, until you see the flags.  They seem to wave in unison as the breeze catches them.   325 of them represent the sisters, brothers, sons and daughters, wives and husbands, partners, mothers and fathers, friends and other relatives who died in service or as a result of service since 9/11. 

 It's difficult to look at the flags without feeling a connection; without seeing a tear from a child's eye who is missing his or her daddy; without feeling the pride of a father as he talks about his hero daughter; without hearing the pain in the laughter of siblings remembering the last time they were together before the uniformed military personnel showed up at their door with news of their loved one's passing. Each flag stands for a life -- for a family in mourning.  

A discussion of how best to honor the fallen heroes of the Massachusetts Military Heroes Fund Families on Memorial Day became a Garden of Flags that has now become a part of Boston's tribute to Massachusetts heroes for the last 12 years. Thousands visit the garden each day, taking pictures, marveling at the bittersweet beauty, and shaking their head at the numbers.  Thousands stop for at least a moment to realize there is a real meaning behind Memorial Day -- to remember a life; to honor a family who feels the loss in their lives every day. 

So instead of saying Happy Memorial Day, encourage gratitude and respect for the sacrifices made. Honor and Remember the fallen on Memorial Day. And just be kind to others in their memory.

Hope

This past year, 2020, was a tough one. Most of us were more than ready to bid farewell to the year that challenged us in so many ways. The year of nasty politics, covid-19, loss, financial stress, racism, and many unprecedented natural events tested our faith, compassion, tolerance, strength, resilience, and consideration for others. 

The year that separated us from those we love also took away the livelihoods of too many, cancelled our travel plans, stole our normalcy, halted any special events and gatherings, and most tragically, took the lives of more than 300,000 Americans. Combined with 3 weeks into January 2021, we're sadly already over 400,000 deaths.

But there were bright spots, too, for some of us. I accompanied my sister to Antarctica, fulfilling a long-time dream she had of seeing penguins in their natural habitat. Something I never thought I wanted to do ended up being the trip of a lifetime, giving me memories to last as long as my mind is intact. My son and his wife gave me a grandson, Brody, who is the new love of my life. And my girls both got engaged to young men who have proven how much they love my daughters and how well they fit into our family. As my mom once told me about Jeff, I love my children's significant others as if they were my own. 

Although we couldn't celebrate the outgoing 2020 and welcome in 2021 with our friends and family as we normally would have, we were all excited for a fresh start. No more memes comparing 2020 to our worst nightmares, the worst imaginable food, or a pile of garbage. The New Year, we had hoped, would show promise for better times. There was no guarantee, but the hope was there, and it was strong.  

Now we're into the third week of 2021 and the memes are reminding us it didn't start as we so desperately wanted. One of the most popular memes says our trial period for 2021 is up and we want our money back. It has begun worse than last year ended, with Covid numbers up higher than ever. Politics took a turn so vile with a president-inspired violent attack on the US Capitol resulting in five deaths that it's hard to believe this is America. Washington D.C., usually abuzz with excitement in anticipation of an inauguration is looking more like a fortress with miles of barricades topped with barbed wire blocking access to a vast area surrounding the Capitol. Nearly 25,000 armed soldiers replace the tourists and DC residents usually mulling around to enjoy the historic event. State Capitols around the country are also bracing for possible attacks.

But with the arrival of President-elect Biden and Vice-President-elect Harris, it feels like a calm has come over us and America is experiencing a rebirth. We're turning a page on four years of negative vitriol, of bullying and lies, of pitting people against each other, of encouraging hate for the media, of defiling our democracy, and of ignoring facts, truth and science. And we're making history, with the first woman becoming vice-president --  a woman of color and Asian decent.

I have a lot of friends, and even some family, who will disagree wholeheartedly with my optimism for the future under the new administration. But being guided by positivity, compassion, decency, kindness and experience, I think the division that has dominated our country the last 4 years will eventually subside.  I pray to God we will once again find common ground to help heal America, both physically from the virus, and emotionally, as we remember we all want the same thing in the end -- peace, happiness, prosperity, understanding, love, and unity. This begins with us. Let's remember a difference of opinions is what makes us unique. Let's put aside the hatred. Let's stop the negativity on social media and use it for its purpose -- to keep in touch, share information and inform. Let's become the nation our constitution intended us to be -- One nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all. 

Covid Christmas

Leading up to Christmas 2020, my kids and I had a plan. We knew the day would look and feel a lot different this year because of Covid-19 and the post-Thanksgiving surge. We anticipated not being able to gather with the extended family at my sister's-in-law house in Boston, but we figured if we -- the kids and I -- could still get together, we could accept this year's changes and just hope for normalcy next year. So in the weeks prior we dialed back our shopping, doing as much as possible on line, and our interaction with others, which had already been at a minimum. 

But as the day approached and Covid-19 crept closer and closer to us, we decided the best thing to do would be to spend Christmas apart, connected by our traditions, our family bond, and of course, Zoom! Thank goodness for Zoom. 

Although I still did almost as much baking as I do every Christmas, I must say this Christmas came and went without all the stress I normally subject myself to! Instead of running crazy Christmas eve without any time to stop and smell the glorious holiday scents, I was relaxed. Julia and I "attended" mass via Zoom -- sitting on the couch in our sweats snuggled with Zona (the cockapoo). After a takeout dinner from Legal Seafood (keeping our tradition of  dining at Legal after church), Julia and I drove around town delivering cookies and viewing the Christmas lights -- in our pajamas.  The rest of the night consisted of Hallmark Movies, Julz making apple crisp while I made cinnamon rolls, stuffing stockings, and watching the Pope say midnight mass. I retired for the night about 3 hours earlier than I usually do on Christmas Eve (1:30 instead of 4:30), on the couch, with the lights lit on the "Jeff tree." I thought about how different Christmas day would be not having my kids all together, but counted my many blessings, one being that we could gather via Zoom. I felt worse for my 89-year-old father-in-law who had just tested positive for Covid and would have to spend the day alone. At least the rest of us had the capability of connecting via Zoom, unlike him who only has a flip phone, by choice, and little to no technical knowledge. 

Christmas morning was laid back. With a fire going, cinnamon rolls in the oven and mimosas poured, Julia and I were waiting patiently to Zoom with Matthew and Meaghan when Matthew called. "Surprise. I'm outside for a quick distant visit so you can see Brody. We'll be in the garage. Wear your mask and don't come closer than 6 feet." I grabbed my mask and went outside. I tried to utter "best Christmas gift ever," but my tears silenced the words. They were both happy tears for getting to see my grandson on his first Christmas, even if at a distance, and tears for the absurdity of it all -- this Covid Christmas. After a bit, the kids went back to their home in Boston and we zoomed our Christmas.

The rest of the day Julz and I spent in our pajamas, watching Hallmark movies and cooking dinner together. 

It certainly wasn't the Christmas most of us had hoped for. It was about making the best of the situation we've become too familiar with over the last 9 months. Of course we missed all those we couldn't be with, but we recognize  how fortunate we are to have been able to celebrate "together," with no new empty seats at the virtual table.  This strange year really drove home the real meaning of Christmas -- celebrating Jesus, which means celebrating love, and celebrating family, because there's nothing more important than that. 

mom

Anyone who knows me well knows I am the youngest of 12 -- I have 7 sisters and 4 brothers. Sadly we lost a brother to cancer 3 years ago, but not before we had a long awaited all-sibling reunion in San Diego for the first time in about 40 years. Our father died in September 2002, but our mom is thankfully still with us.

Mom was born and raised in Barbados, and when she left for New York in 1944 to marry our dad, she didn't know then that she would never see her parents again, or that it would be 40 years before she would return to her homeland. She was 39 when she had me, 15 years after giving birth to our oldest sister, Bobbie. She never learned to drive, and never worked outside the home. The woman who never wanted children spent her life caring for them -- after raising all of us she babysat for her grandkids and eventually for teachers' children in our home. She loved soap operas, she was a voracious reader of romance novels, and could tackle a New York Times crossword puzzle like a wordsmith. She was an okay cook although didn't enjoy it, but we were well-fed. The concoctions she came up with on a very tight budget (like hamburger over rice, hotdogs over rice, kidneys over rice, cow tongue) have given us fodder for laughter today. She taught me how to be a mother in the way she loved me and took care of me.

Mom turns 99 today, Nov. 22. We are grateful to have her still, but dementia has claimed her memory and her mind over the last several years, leaving her a shell of herself. Phone conversations are short and lack substance -- she doesn't remember what she did five minutes ago, never mind that day, so we talk about the weather and how she's feeling. I tell her about my kids and my new grandson, wishing she could share in the joy of my growing family and the news of my daughters getting married next year.  I don't even think she knows who I am, so I remind her that I am her youngest daughter (and her favorite 😉).  I believe she pictures me as the young girl she knew when her mind was intact. She can't fathom that I have a 32-year-old son who is married and has a baby, and that her own "baby" is 60 years old. 

She tells me how much she misses me and always asks "when can I see you." I tell her about the pandemic that won't allow me to fly there to see her, and I know she doesn't understand. Yesterday I told her how last year at this time a few sisters and i surprised her on her 98th birthday when we traveled to Alabama where she lives with our sister Linda and her husband Ron. She said how nice that would be if we could go this year, or maybe one day she can come visit me. In spite of her scattered mind, I'm fortunate to be able to tell her I love her and hear her say it back. 

I often wonder about the jumbled thoughts in her head. Does she know us in her brain, but can't process the memory to convey it to us? Yesterday she told me that someone told her she was going to be 99, and wanted to know if that's true. I told her it was and she said "good thing I don't look it!" I asked her if she felt it, and she said "no, I don't!" I hope I can say the same if I live to be 99!

She is like the energizer bunny -- she just keeps going! She survived an intestinal obstruction last year, pneumonia, several falls and fainting spells. She walks with the help of a walker, but physically is in pretty good shape. She has certainly gifted us with good genes!

It's been hard watching her mind whither away the last 10 years or so. But it's been the most difficult on Linda who has cared for her for about 8 years and sees her mental and physical decline daily. She left her job at the pet store to be home with mom, and can no longer just pick up and go somewhere -- she must first make arrangments for someone to be with her. Linda raised her own 5 kids and helps with her 9 grandchildren, and now with our mom it's almost like she has another child to take care of. She answers the same questions over and over again, makes sure she eats her meals, and is her caretaker in every sense of the word. She never complains to us about it and doesn't see it as a burden.

We owe a debt of gratitude to Linda and Ron. Thanks to them, mom is well-cared for and loved. And we can rest easy knowing that. So in this week of Thanksgiving, I am grateful to Linda and Ron for being mom's lifeline and giving us peace of mind. God has set a special place for them in heaven!

Hopefully this time next year we'll be celebrating Mom's 100 years with a family reunion of epic proportions for our 4-generation family! 

Remembering 9/11 in a Covid World

19 years … sometimes it feels like a lifetime, and other times it feels like yesterday that terrorists breeched our safety and security and took the lives of nearly 3000 innocent souls on a beautiful September Tuesday. One of those lives was my husband of 17 years, father of our 3 children, ages 7, 11 and 13 at the time. Like Jeff, they were sons, daughters, fathers, mothers, siblings, spouses, partners -- just going about their day, going to work, traveling for work or pleasure. Every one of them was part of a family, loved, and now missed for far too long.

Each anniversary of that horrible day feeds the grief that is always there. Anyone who has lost someone dear to them knows this. When the loss is through a very public tragedy like September 11, 2001, the community remembers with us and offers comfort. Ordinarily there are public services, small ones led by local organizations or towns; a larger one held in Boston with the Governor, Mayor and other dignitaries attended by the 9/11 family members and friends; and the commemoration ceremony in New York at the site of the World Trade Center and Memorial Park.

 For many family members this provides an opportunity to gather and remember together. The ceremonies give them something to do on an emotive and difficult day. Others, like me, choose to participate in service, finding purpose in the day that changed us all, and paying it forward for the compassion and kindness bestowed on us the weeks and months following the unthinkable murder of our loved ones. It was those acts of kindness that helped us cope through the very dark times in our lives and in our country. Those acts of kindness led to legislation recognizing the Anniversary of 9/11 as a National Day of Service and Remembrance as part of the 2009 Serve America Act, co-authored by Senator Ted Kennedy who was a beacon of hope for Massachusetts 9/11 families.

But this year is different. Covid-19 is dictating that we find a new way to remember, without the community physically  around us, without the organized service projects, without the school presentations educating students about a day that happened before they were even born that changed their parents’ and teachers’ America forever. The Massachusetts Commemoration, usually held at the Memorial in the Public Garden with Mayor Marty Walsh and at the State House with Governor Baker, will be on line (find it at www.massfund.org beginning at 8:30 a.m. Sept. 11). It feels like it will be easier for people to forget. Perhaps seeing the flags at half staff will cause some to ask why and jog their memories.

To remember 9/11 we encourage you to join in on what has become the largest day of service in the country. Do a random act of kindness for a friend or stranger. Donate if you can to a cause that’s important to you.  Show some consideration for someone you ordinarily would ignore. Look for opportunities in your community to do socially-distant service, like cleaning up your neighborhood. Google the names of those who died that day, and the first responders and contractors who have since died as a result of their work at the site known as Ground Zero. Say their names out loud. This ensures they won’t be forgotten. Do your random act of kindness in their memory. Most of all, just be nice.

Parents, talk to your children about the way America came together as a true United States after 9/11. Tell them how we all felt like family, calming each others’ fears, waving our flags on the street corners, locking arms while singing God Bless America at large gatherings and sporting events, and being there for those who needed it. Convey to them how senators and congressmen actually worked together, crossing the partisan lines to do what they needed to do for the safety and security of our country. We weren’t Republicans and Democrats then – we were Americans, bound together in tragedy, working together to survive, proud of our resilience. Paint that picture for your children, and give them hope that maybe one day we can find that unity and resilience again, but without the unprecedented, horrific tragedy that brought us there 19 years ago.

Keep the promise we made when America was temporarily brought to her knees on September 11, 2001 -- Never Forget.

The loss of a friend

I said goodbye to a very dear friend last month. But more importantly, a family said goodbye to their daughter, sister, aunt and cousin. A long, tough battle with Covid 19 took her from this earth at only 51 years old, but she lived more life than many of us could even dream about.

Most people who know Donna Morrissey or have heard of her are familiar with her incredible work with the American Red Cross. For nearly 2 decades she was the face of the Red Cross regionally, organized major blood drives, developed partnerships between the Red Cross and corporations, and responded thoughtfully and compassionately to natural disasters and tragedies, providing assistance to and consoling those directly affected by events such as the horrific Sandy Hook School Shooting, Hurricane Katrina, the Pulse Nightclub shooting, Hurricane Maria and so many others.  Some know of her challenging work with the Diocese of Boston during the heinous sexual abuse scandal, a difficult time in her career that resulted in at least 2 mentions of her name in the award-winning movie Spotlight. Having worked in PR all of my adult life, I've never met anyone as talented, determined, and successful as she was in the field. She handled every situation with ease, finesse and professionalism.

I met Donna more than 15 years ago at a 9/11 blood drive at Fenway Park. I was invited to the blood drive by fellow Abingtonian and then-Boston EMS Chief Rich Serino, who thought it might be a nice distraction for my kids on a day he knew was difficult for us. Without hesitation, Donna tucked us under her wing, took us through the various areas of the blood drive, explaining what was happening and why it was a tribute to those who died on 9/11. She led my kids to the newly-won World Series trophy, introduced them to Red Sox players and owner Larry Lucchino, and made sure they got their fill of the  clam chowder, hot dogs, fries and other snacks available to the donors. When my youngest, Julia, said to me "Mom, I never thought we'd ever have fun on September 11 again," Donna caught my eye and we both choked back tears. She introduced me to her American Red Cross colleagues and invited me to sit on the board of the Red Cross Blood Services along with Rich, who was board president. This was the beginning of our long friendship.

There was so much more to Donna than her work self. She was fun, funny, intriguing, and a firecely committed friend. She absolutely adored her boy Sebastian, a German Shepherd she raised from puppyhood. The two of them were spiritually connected, tuned in to each other like nothing I've ever seen. She was also a very devoted daughter to her mom and dad, and equally loyal as a sister, especially to her younger twin sisters Johanna and Caitlin, to whom she often referred as "my girls." She was valiant in her efforts to make her father's last months as comfortable as possible, and to treat him to his favorite foods and experiences he enjoyed, like dining out.

Donna loved a good adventure, a nice bottle of bubbly, red lipstick, and anything Chanel. She loved sparkly, big sunglasses -- even more if they were Chanel. Bling never looked so good on anyone else. She would get so excited about finding incredible deals at TJ Maxx or gently-used pieces of Waterford crystal at her favorite antique shop on the Cape to add to her collection. She knew everything there was to know about The Real Housewives of New York, New Jersey, Atlanta and Beverly Hills, and considered it a life achievement when she appeared in an episode of the Housewives of New York after she and Countess Luann visited the hurricane ravaged Florida Keys.

I was fortunate to be one of Donna's frequent travel companions. Sometimes I'd accompany her on Red Cross business trips, helping to set up at a conference or key blood drives, or just tagging along to keep her company during off hours. Among the cities we visited were Miami, New York, Savannah, Key West and Las Vegas, each having a story that brought much laughter then and later, and now, wonderful memories.

As a friend, Donna always let you know she was there for you, and backed up her words with action. She was a devoted, caring friend who often checked in by phone, wanting to know every detail of what was going in my life and with my kids. Our phone calls were filled with laughter, encouragement, advice, and discussions about her latest fun find or how she would use her accumulated travel points.

It's still difficult to come to terms with the loss of my friend who meant so much to so many. I miss hearing her say "Hey Doll -- what's new and exciting with you?" I miss her exuberance, her compassion, her words of wisdom and her friendship. But I know she's up there, sparkly sunglasses and all, checking in and looking out for me and all those she cared about. Godspeed, Donna. I raise a glass of bubbly to you.