“We stumble through chaotic trails and seem to wonder why...When mom steps in and offers us get back up and try.”

Last week's County Transcript announced the passing of our mom, Mary Ficarro.

While her obituary gave an overview of work and personal contribution, I need to share more of her “life” with our readers.

During my formative years, I do not remember once considering the sacrifices our parents, especially mom, made raising four boys.

As I matured, married and began to raise children of my own, I started to “understand”.

Actually, I questioned how mom found the compassion to allow me to survive childhood; I was a hellion!

I vividly recalled that she, in lieu of actually making me disappear, chose to tie me to a support pillar of our back porch, commenting, “wait till your father gets home!” Immediately upon her “professional” completion of the last knot, my parent's insurance agent, Ed Ahearn, came around the back of our house. Ed looked at me, looked at mom and got the (parental) stink-eye, turned around without a word and “understood.” So, I learned compassion for the fool heardy, knot tying skills that earned badges in cub and boy scouts and survived another day.

During my tenure in the fourth grade, I became interested in playing the trumpet. Playing, especially in the beginning, had nothing to do with the sound coming out. After ear shattering practice, I would come downstairs to hear mom say, “I like that last song you played.” Without realizing why, I practiced to the point of being chosen to play a solo during a high school concert, as a sixth grader. From eighth through twelfth grade I was first chair in the coronet section. Mom was at “every” concert we played. I learned her lesson, “get back up and try”. Now, I “understand”.

Throughout high school, it was normal for us boys to seldom see both parents at home, day or night. Dad spent his life working for the railroad, driving trucks and remodeling homes on weekends. Mom spent long hours at Matis Manufacturing during the week and riding herd over four hell raising boys on weekends. So, without a clue as to why, I learned a great work ethic and how to multi-task during my journey. Lessons, taught by example and, now I understand”.

Mom was never misunderstood. You did not have to second guess what was on her mind. She would not intentionally hurt anyone's feelings, but never held anything back. In my youth, I sometimes found I was embarrassed by the “clarity” of her opinion. Now, I “understand”. How we feel, on any subject is part and parcel of who we are. It is imperative to our person, as well as those with whom we commune. I learned this lesson well.

These hard working seventy, eighty and ninety year old generations are rapidly disappearing. What we are left with, is ourselves. I can only pretend to be a distorted reflection of what mom prayed I become. She was an impossible act to follow, but now, I “understand.”

Consolation in her passing is knowing she was welcomed home by countless other family angels exalting her arrival.