A Life of Giving: A Son’s Tribute to His Mom
by Thom Garvey • Brooklyn, NY

Editor’s Note: Neil’s mother passed away suddenly on April 12. The following tribute to her was delivered by Neil’s brother at her funeral service.

Don’t worry about anything Tommy. You’re never alone. You’ve got me. I’ll always be here for you,” my mother would always say.

And she was always there for me – and for my brother and my sister (and for many others). Always. Ma, Mom, Mommy. She took this role very seriously and never wavered. No matter what. But she played another role in our lives as well: Father; for the last 36 years, doing it all — alone.

Hemingway said: “Life Breaks everyone, but some people heal stronger in the breaks.” My mother was one of those people that healed stronger in the breaks. Despite great obstacles she bounced back repeatedly: an extremely difficult marriage, scant financial resources, widowed at thirty-nine with three kids, losing her dearest friends during the next two years, beating lung cancer at fifty, and first-time entrepreneur at age fifty-five, just to mention a few challenges.

With limited educational opportunities, and basically no prior business experience, my mom opened a health food store twenty years ago in a typically middle-class, blue-collar neighborhood in Queens. The area wasn’t exactly hip and trendy. And it didn’t take off right away. For several years she struggled to make it work, doing everything possible to make it succeed. And succeed, she did. The store flourished and people came in not just to buy great food, but to get well and to see her. She made soup, and sandwiches and offered remedies. She took care of her customers just like a mother.
You seemed invincible Mom. You never quit. You truly practiced what you preached; “to never give up” as you told me so often.

Generous, kind, loving, sweet, caring, honest, elegant, fastidious, brave, strong, bubbly, energetic, resilient, thoughtful, hopeful, selfless. My mother possessed all of these qualities for sure.
I came across a little hand written note in my mother’s apartment the day after she passed away and it said: “My Secret Wishes.” Of the eight wishes she wrote, seven of them were for other people.
It is better to give than to receive. My mother practiced this principle all the time. Throughout her life she took in people who needed help when she had so little. We had several people live with us for months at a time. She helped our friends when they couldn’t go to their parents for help, or if they had lost their parents; people liked being in our home because my mother welcomed everyone without judgment (not to mention the fact that she always had lots of great food). Birthdays, Christmas, or for no particular reason at all, she would shower her children, and others, with countless gifts. One card wasn’t enough. She would get three cards for every birthday, each carefully, lovingly chosen. She would say, “I got you a funny one, a serious one and another just because I liked it so much.” She simply loved being there for others and making their lives easier. This was where she received her greatest joy.

My mother was a petite woman, but there is nothing small about her legacy, or the impact she had on others. It is a strong, beautiful, vibrant, legacy. In life she was in a constant state of motion. She was a whirlwind, never stopping, or slowing down. That kind of energy keeps moving out and beyond.
Thank you Mom for giving me the freedom and space to dream. You said, “do what makes you happy, Tommy. You’ll never be happy doing something you don’t like.” Thank you for making a beautiful home in every way; for making dinner time sacred, making sure that we all ate together every night, regardless of your oppressive schedule. Thank you for creating order in our house despite the disorder that you shielded us from. Thank you for doing my times tables with me over and over again. Thank you for coming to all of my shows no matter where they happened to be and for being my biggest fan. Thank you for giving me a sense of style and taste and an appreciation for beauty and for good food. Thank you for pushing me to go to college even though you never had the chance, and for going to all of my
college interviews with me. Thank you for introducing me to people with such pride, as your “baby” even after I turned 40. Thank you for showing me how to be a real friend. Thank you for teaching me how to be compassionate and forgiving. Thank you for telling me you loved me every time we saw each other and every time before we hung up the phone — which was every day.

Mom, you were our rock, our anchor, and our true North.

Be carefree now, Mom as you never could be in life. Breathe easy finally. Don’t worry Mom, we’ll be fine. And please say hello to Daddy.

Thom Garvey is a theatre director in NYC, having just directed a production of Marsha Norman's prison drama, GETTING OUT. Thom is also a vocal/dialect/speech coach for actors and business people. He is a faculty member at NYU, Baruch College, The New School University, and The Strasberg Institute. 212 696-7822 thomgarvey@gmail.com.