My Mother's Influence: Internet Weblogger Helen Ramos

I sat down to write this eulogy the weekend before my mother died. I was in a chair next to her bed, keeping her company as she dozed. Initially, I thought this would be the hardest thing I would ever write. But the truth is, as I watched her sleep, I took comfort in knowing she was lost in a dream-world instead of plagued by her dark reality—and the words poured out of me like I too was lost in a world of dreams. Dreams that brought me back to the imaginary games we played when I was just a kid, secrets confided between a mother & dauggter, lessons learned, I love you”s exchanged, her beaming pride, our friendship, arguments that exhausted both of us, and the reconciliations that always brought us back together.

The child who died is considered a gift to the parents and family, and they are forced to give up that gift. Yet, as parents, they also strive to let their child's life, no matter how short, be seen as a gift to others. These parents seek to find ways to continue to love, honor, and value the lives of their children and continue to make the child's presence known and felt in the lives of family and friends. Bereaved parents often try to live their lives more fully and generously because of this painful experience.

If someone asked me ten years ago why my mother was my hero, I wouldn't have been able to give them a proper response. As I grew older, and as my jolly world made of gum drops and sunshine were fading away, I realized how much my mother had put up with. Dealing with horrid family- crushing problems as a child was never easy for me and I can only imagine what it did to my mother. I watched my mother somehow withstand it every single moment. All I had to ask, was why? Why had she tortured herself by staying with a

Jackie robinson once said “ A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives “ It is tough not seeing your mom for long time. The barrier I faced was when I didn’t see my mom for a year courage and integrity guided my way and I was able to persevere just like jackie robinson.

My mother has taught me to be courageous and always stand up for what I believe in. Every day, when I think about all that she went through while raising us, I really am astonished. She has basically given up her life for us making sure that we be successful in everyway. I can remember her letting me try out for club basketball when I was in sixth grade, the money didn’t even daunt her she always found away. However, when someone hurts anyone of us she has no problem standing up for us. I can

When I was a very young child, my mom died. It was an accident, or, at least, that’s what my dad always told me. I never quite believed it, but I knew better than to push it at that time. Because I had a sister to support – Samantha. She was four years younger than me, and she was my responsibility from the very beginning. Or so my father tried to convince me. I was always to be taking care of Sammy – Sammy came first. Everything was about her, but I could tell her nothing.

    In life, many things can be taken for granted - especially the things that mean the most to you. You just might not realize it until you've lost it all. As I walk down the road finishing up my teenage days, I slowly have been finding a better understanding of my mother. The kind of bond that mothers and daughters have is beyond hard to describe. It's probably the biggest rollercoaster ride of emotions that I'll ever have the chance to live through in my lifetime. But, for those of us who are lucky enough to survive the ride in one piece, it's an amazing learning experience that will influence your entire future.

For my report, I want to write about Jocelyn Peralta — my mother. I am not writing about her just because she is my mother. No, my paper will not be about motherhood or being a woman. It will be about her as a person, how her wounds of the past left scars that are still visible in her present and how it influences her character. Painful experiences affect a person in both positive and negative ways and there is nothing that can be done to change that. the only thing one can control is how to deal with it.

“A mother is she who can take the place of all others but whose place no one else can take.” – Cardinal Mermillod

Mom’s death is near. She is getting weaker by the day and death is imminent. Her true character shines through at this time. Concern for those she is leaving behind is only surpassed by the profound messages she wants to share. To the very end she demonstrates a keen insight into human nature.

  I always enjoyed hearing stories about my mother when she wasn’t around. She abandoned me so many times, leaving me with Nanna. “You were so used to her coming and going. I remember one day you were in the swimming pool, and your mom got out of the car. She had been gone for a couple of weeks. You smiled and waved at her and kept swimming. Once she came back out of the house with some clothes in her hand, she told you bye. You didn’t cry that time because this was normal.”

My mother, Kellie, is an intelligent, beautiful, and caring woman who has officially begun a new chapter in her life of disappointment... her third marriage. Over her forty-seven years of life, she has experienced many letdowns. Many of her upset points in life are far different and extreme than any other. Everything began when she started being uprooted from her schools here in Huntington every three months to Jacksonville, Coconut Creek, Fort Lauderdale, St Augustine, Fort Myers, Pompano, and Miami. Her father, Donald was a house painter who moved his five children and wife every time money was low, shortage demand, or a bad weather season. Once she began making friends or joining the cheer team, she had to leave and begin a new life, which is what she is still doing.

The oldest memory I have is of the blurry figure of my mother as she cradles me close to her chest and sings me a lullaby that is off key. This off-key lullaby is my oldest and most fond memory. A memory that fills me with warmth when I think of it. Those moments have since ceased as I have grown up. My mother no longer holds me to her chest and sings me to sleep. Most of the time she is not home, but far away and tapping at her keyboard as she works endlessly to provide for us. This has been a fact since I was three years old. When she first started traveling to different cities, states, and countries for work, I was wracked with intense feelings of loss for my mother who, even though I knew would be back within a week, was taken from me by an outside force. I would stand by a window in my silent house and watch as her car left our similarly quiet neighborhood. These feelings of loss have become dull with the years of exposure. My mother used to ask me every so often, “Grace, do you feel I’m leaving you too much?”

I will always remember waking up before the sun and torpidly gathering my things for the day. I’d step out into the crisp, chilly air holding my mother’s hand. The drive was always silent as the warmth of the heater and the lull of the road begged me to sleep just a bit more. More often than not, my mother would be forced to carry my limp body into my aunt’s house. A quick peck on the cheek signaled her departure. This was a regular day for me as a child. My mother had early mornings on call as an emergency medical technician. As hard as it was to not have her around for some big moments, the way I am today is thanks to her and her service to our community. It has taught me compassion, determination, and the value of life.

            My mother’s experience has taught me important lessons of life. If it was not for my mother, I would have lived in fear all