Cecil Anne (Hudson) Pedersen March 19, 1940 - January 30, 2009

Many people have asked me to send them a copy of the tribute I delivered at my mom's funeral last Saturday. I thought that I would post it here instead. I'm very proud of it and amazed that I was able to stand up there in front of 300 people, in a church and make it through the whole speech, only losing it twice. After the service, everyone came up to me and told me how much they thought of it. So many people had so many loving things to say. I'm honored to have been able to do this and hear from the people who heard it.

When we were planning this service, my father and I discussed the flowers. Mom loves tulips and I just so happen to live near the tulip capital of the US, so I offered to get tulip bouquets. My father balked at the suggestion, explaining that he doesn't like it when flowers are cut, only to be enjoyed for a few days, when it is so much nicer to plant flowers and have them to enjoy year after year.

I reminded my dad that with tulips, one must cut the flower in order for the bulb to grow and divide, thus allowing more tulips to spring forth from the one. And so it goes. One beautiful bloom must be plucked in order for the rest of us to grow and thrive.

I could have never imagined that I'd be standing up here today, speaking with all of you, but moreso, I could never have imagined the gifts that have come from this. Even though this has been such a difficult time for me and my family, I've found great comfort in recognizing the gifts that have been bestowed on us and I'd like to share them with you in hopes that if my mom's passing has left you with a void in your life, you can fill it with happy memories of my mom and the assurance that the legacy of mom's gifts to us and this earth continue to be a blessing to all of us who were so fortunate to have her in our lives.

We all know her intention was to give us the gift of sparing us having to take care of her during her decline and the gift of never having to know her as anything less than her very best, but I wonder how much she thought about the other gifts that have amazingly and strangely come from her sudden departure.

We are not left with the unanswerable question of "why," which can mercilessly plague families who are struck by a senseless death. None of us have to suffer that particular bewilderment and we can be grateful for that gift.

Although we know that my mother possessed a quiet determination in every goal she set, we have now been given the gift of truly understanding her boundless strength and now know that she is far more brave than any of us could have ever imagined. We can take great inspiration from that and she makes us even stronger as we go forward in life. It is due solely to her gift of strength that I am able to stand up here today.

She has given us the gift of being closer to our family and friends who through their love and support during this difficult time has deepened the emotional relationship we have with them.

I'm closer now to my family and friends than I could have ever hoped. That includes my mom, who I love more now than ever and feel closer to than I ever thought possible.

I have been given the gift of re-connecting with people from my childhood who were very important to me, even though I didn't know it at the time. We've been given the gift of reconciliation and ultimate respect and love for the truth behind our bond and the disolution of all of the wrong ideas we had about each other.

Our friends and family have been given the opportunity to demonstrate their love and care for us by supporting us through this difficult time. And we now live in wonder of what a gift it is for us to have these people in our lives.

Her death gave gifts to people she had never even met. For example, the night after I told my dear friend, Maurice of her passing, he sat to dinner with his friends, two couples, a very elderly couple who have been together for decades and a couple whose ages are quite far apart. The elderly couple were no doubt touched by a deeper appreciation for the time they have had together. And later, the older member of the other couple shared with Maurice that the conversation they had about the circumstances of my mother's death, opened up a whole new and more meaningful avenue of communication between him and his less mature partner. Both of these things are gifts that my mother gave people she never even knew and would never know how she touched their hearts.

I've always wanted to believe that everything we do and say sends ripples out into the world and affects people in ways that we will never know. It's one thing to believe that in the abstract, but Mom gave me the gift of witnessing that first-hand and validating that belief that I hold very dear.

I know that for me and I hope for all of us here, that we are reminded to be thankful for our great blessings and to not take anything for granted: the air that we breathe, the food on our tables, the roofs over our heads, our family and friends who we love and love us in return, the beauty in our world and our good health.

Mom freed herself from the body that betrayed her and prevented her from being able to do the things that she loves.

She is no longer trapped there, she is free, and now she is everywhere.

She is up there with her mom and dad, Fannie and Joe and her sisters Helen and Josephine. All of the earthly concerns gone and they now know each other as they may not have been able to here. She and Aunt Nadine are horsing around and wishing we'd all lighten up a little down here. Grandpa Art is joining them all in a good belly laugh. He is.

Mom loves animals and we know that she's up there playing with Tinker, Maynard, Fritz the cat who burned through about 40 lives, Sweetie, Ziggy, hopefully not those two rabbits we got for Easter in 1970, Benji, Barney, Mister Stevenson, Bitsy, Dusty, Frosty, Tina, Max, Jelly, the Professor and Mary Ann, that chameleon I got at the Puyallup Fair that would only eat live house flies that we all became experts at catching in sandwich bags, and all the other pets patiently waiting for their owners to join them.

Always putting everyone's needs ahead of hers, know that she has just simply gone ahead for us, and is getting the place ready to welcome us all when we come.

She's hounding Paul Newman for autographs and checking the schedule to see when Robert Redford will be arriving.

She's in the camellia blossom that forges ahead through the soggy, grey winter to bloom and give us hope that Spring is just around the corner.

She is the flickering flames of the campfire, that she will make burn a little brighter and dance a little higher.

She's sitting on the 50 yard line of every Seahawks game.

She's in the stars we gaze at twinkling in the night sky on a clear, black night.

She's in the wind that blows our hair out of our face so that we can see.

She's there when you are cutting your child's bangs too short and crooked.

She's with you when you're planting your flowers and she helping your tomatoes ripen on the vine.

She's in the ray of sunshine that comes in through your window and provides a warm spot for the cat to nap.

She's at WalMart.

She is sitting right next to you in the car, flinging her arm across you when you're forced to stop too fast.

She's in the forests of Africa, hanging around with the gorillas. Don't ask me to explain that one, please.

She's at the daffodil parade, keeping the seagulls from pooping on your head.

She IS at your dance recital, she IS at your granduation, she IS at your wedding and she IS there when her great-grandbabies are born and she IS swaddling them with her love.

She is standing right next to you when life is forcing you to make difficult decisions.

We don't ever have to be lonely, because she is always with us.