The Memorial Service

The denouement of our five days in Florida, the real reason we were there, was the memorial service for my mom, Mary Celeste Brooks Hanna, who passed last year after a long battle with cancer. 

My brother, Carlton, and his wife, Kelly, came from California with their daughter Francesca, and my mom’s brother, Uncle Andy, drove from Texas with Aunt Janice and my cousin, Christina, and her two kids. Of course, my brother, Josh, was there, too, with his wife, Sarah, and their son, Abram, as well as my mom’s sister, Aunt Jackie, Uncle Bill, and Andrew. Elise’s brother came, too, and my dad. We were joined by a friends of my mom’s from the neighborhood and community garden. One in a whirlygig hat which was beyond perfect. 

Based on her wishes, I had searched out a spot in Riverbend Park west of Jupiter. 

Her wishes for the service were more religious than I was comfortable presiding over, so I reached out to Pastor Susan Gray of Jupiter-Tequesta Methodist Church who agreed to lead us in the celebration of my mom’s memory. 

I share this with you now for those who couldn’t be there. We did think of you. I was understandably nervous beforehand. I had put a lot of pressure on myself. When you have a whole year to plan something you have a lot of time to get everything just right. Unlike, perhaps, with a funeral where there is no time to plan, really, and whatever happens just happens. Which is also perfect in its own way. 

Elise, the kids, and I scouted our the location the evening before. I had only seen the actual spot I picked on Google Earth, so I was ardently hoping the scene was not significantly different than it was online ... something that can happen on occasion. 

We knew it was going to be hot — August in Florida — but a breeze picked up just as we started the service. 

Pastor Susan led us in prayer and singing the first verse of “Amazing Grace”.

I gave the eulogy. Some asked that I share that here:

“I’ve had more than a year to think about what I wanted to say here today, but even given all that time, I couldn’t decide what I wanted to say — much less how to say it.

It wasn’t until just a few weeks ago that it came to me. I emptied my mind, then thought of my mom. And the first memory that came to me was of her in her cowboy hat, letting out one of her ‘Yeehaws!’ And this probably goes back awhile....to our old house on Snug Harbor with the Formica cabinets and ‘clumps’ in he yard, as we called them — islands of ferns that would take over the entire yard. There are likely still headless Star Wars action figures buried in the dirt there.

I recently listened to a podcast — and Elise can tell you I never listen to podcasts — by designer Ingrid Fetell Lee about joy, wherein she discusses and defines the word ‘joy’.

Broadly speaking, when psychologists use the word ‘joy’ what they mean is an intense, momentary experience of positive emotion — one that makes us smile and laugh and feel like we want to jump up and down. And this is actually a technical thing. That feeling of wanting to jump up and down is one of the ways scientists measure joy.

Joy is about feeling good in the moment, right now. Whereas happiness measures how good we feel over time.

But where does joy come from? If you think about what brings us joy it is things like bubbles and swimming pools and flowers and ice cream and balloons and fireworks and cupcakes with sprinkles, things that make us look twice and put a smile on our face no matter our age, gender, sexual orientation, ethnicity, or religion, or politics. 

And these things are not rare. They happen every day and often in plain sight, but they are so often overlooked, and when they are overlooked — because we are too busy or we are late for an important meeting or appointment — we go through our lives a little less joyful.

When I think about my mom....about who she was ....she was someone who tried not to overlook joy. And could find joy in tiny moments.... in a Marlins home run.... or in her cowboy cookies.... or a good carrot-raisin salad....who was always ready to jump up and down and yell, ‘Yeehaw!’

One of my mom’s favorite books was Jonathan Livingston Seagull. She always had a copy close to her in her home. I recently read it. It’s a short book. Thankfully. It’s likely less than a hundred pages, but took me forever to finish. A book about a seagull is kind of slow, but I want to share a quote from it, because all Jonathan Livingston really wanted from life, I think, are the same things my mom wanted from life, to know and experience joy.

‘Heaven is not a place, and it is not a time. Heaven is being perfect. And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour , or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.”

I don’t want to rewrite the book, because obviously it’s a classic, but I think the quote works better if you replace ‘perfection’ with ‘joy’, because of course none of us are perfect, nor do I think any of us really want to be perfect, but heaven is knowing joy, and not overlooking it, and taking the time to see it and experience it.

The other things I thought about before today was my mom’s legacy. About what she left behind. She did help build the garden, but otherwise didn’t build buildings or bridges. Yet, there is something still here that is hers. And it’s not a physical monument. It’s something that is in Stella and Grayson, Francesca and Abram, and Clementine, Peter, and Sam. That they are joyful. And they wear cowboy hats and yell ‘Yeehaw!’ easily and without reservation. 

And sometimes a little too loud for my liking.”

Pastor Susan also read a letter Ginny Higgins wrote. Ginny, along with my mom, was one of the founding members of the Abacoa Community Garden:

“Thoughts about Celeste

I met Celeste in 2010 when the idea of a community garden was just that — Tom and Liz Poulson’s idea! I just wanted to help Tom and Liz and volunteered to host some meetings in my house. Little did I know what that would morph into!

At that time, Celeste definitely wanted her OWN space. With a few other intrepid souls we approached MANY entities with no success. Then, Lifesong Church, a tiny church with lots of land, only 50 congregants but lots of love, offered their sandy soul for FREE! Many years later, you can see what Celeste helped to build. 

I remember her as a woman with so many ideas, such enthusiasm, a knowledge of dealing with the “town”, a great work ethic, and a contagious smile!

I see her in the garden in her loose white clothing and floppy hat, curly hair, and gloves covered with dirt. She never did work her OWN garden, but was always a leader in the community garden. She was always sharing recipes and “easy” ways to cook and how to have a healthy diet. She was always quiet about her illnesses, stoic even. She was an inspiration.

Many, many times we talked about our families. Paul, Josh, Carlton, your wives and children were the love of her life. I have followed Paul’s career forever and share her pride. I went to the Lake Worth chalk festival to see Josh’s chalk drawing — fantastic! I followed Carlton’s moves and exciting travels. We wanted to go to India — she went and stayed for weeks and shared the pictures and website for Paul’s wife. She LOVED that trip. I later went up north to New Delhi, etc. but had much more of a “tourist” experience. The grandchildren — obviously Celeste had more time with the older children and those were the stories I heard. We compared grandchildren stories — all wonderful of course. She was thrilled with the new babies on the way and all the weddings. 

I miss her. And I am so incredibly sorry to be out of the country when you celebrate her life. Please stop by the garden. We have a bench area facing the children’s beds. She would love that. The garden family misses her. Please keep in touch. We would love to share our bounty with you. We were fortunate to have been a part of her life.

Ginny Higgins”

Josh had put together a board of old photographs of my mom.

After the service, we all met at Toojay’s for brunch. Toojays was a favorite of my mom’s, as she always had a container or two of one of their tuna salads or cole slaws she was working her way through. A tub that one could usually make one or two sandwiches from could last my mom at least a week. 

It took a few minutes for the service to break up. Hugs were exchanged and stories.

The last photo is a portrait Elise took when my mom came with us on our visit to Sri Lanka. It was used for the program.