Remembering My Mom, Patricia Ann (Goerger) Hausmann

If you didn’t know Mom, and you saw her walking around, the only reasonable conclusion you could draw was that she was someone famous. An actress? Or a rock star, perhaps? Her broad-brimmed hat and stylish sunglasses immediately gave her away. When she stepped out, she had to cover herself from head to toe. She told me it was her defense against the sun, but I think that was just a clever ruse to keep her fans at bay.

Rock Star?

Mom also had a profoundly deep secret that she didn’t tell anybody. She loved chocolate. It’s true! Yeah! I know you are skeptical, but, man, she kept that secret locked away. Just like she didn’t tell anybody that she also loved pie, cookies, cake, and just about anything sweet. I wish she would have told us about that! We could have done something to help her scratch that itch. Alas…

The final thing that you probably didn’t know about my Mom was that she never expressed her feelings. For example, you could never tell if she was happy to see you. The bouncing up and down, or the outstretched arms. Or the huge hug that you immediately received after you stepped out of the car. None of these things betrayed her feelings. It’s so weird. Some people you can read like a book. But with Mom, you just never knew!

I’m kidding of course. One of the things that I deeply loved and respected about Mom was that she was different, and although she didn’t always like being different, she was really cool about it.

In fact, being different made her who she was. She was a champion of people who were considered “different.” I know she hated the word “disabled,” but she was a champion of people who were challenged in some way. Let me give you a good example. I remember when Ben’s piano teacher gave birth to her son who was diagnosed with Down’s Syndrome. Mom was the first person she called because she knew that Mom would be able to provide the emotional support she needed at that time.

Mom basically made a career out of helping people overcome their limitations. I mean...she got her Master’s Degree in Special Education for crying out loud! She used her degree to teach her students how to find their voice, and express it in writing. That is very inspiring to me. The honest truth is — and I hope Mom knows this — she inspired me to go to graduate school and enroll in a program that will help people find their calling. I didn’t do it in the same she did way, of course. But the parallels are definitely there.

Related to writing, Mom loved to tell stories and reminisce about funny or surprising things that happened to her. I wish she could have taken the time to write down all of her stories because she and Dad have had some pretty fun adventures together. Like the one time they lived on the Indian Reservation in Rocky Boy. Dad owned a horse named Fury. One night, as the story goes, they were trying to fall asleep when the house started to shutter. They sprang out of bed to figure out what was going on. Instead of a cataclysmic event or an earthquake, they figured out that Fury was using the house as a scratching post. He must have found the right spot because he was so into it that he butted out a pane of glass in their window. Seriously, how many times has that happened to you?

Toward the end of her life, it was really tough to listen to Mom tell the same stories over and over. I wanted to run away or scream at her and tell her that we’ve heard this same story a thousand times! But she couldn’t help it. She had so few memories left. What I think she was doing was just to trying to hang on to something, anything. It was so sad and tragic to watch her brilliant mind start to fade. It was especially hard because Mom was always the one who was quick to say, “Five years ago, on this day, we went to the coast.” or “Last summer, we dropped Bob and Leslie off at Brown University.” She had an amazing ability to recall dates and events. So amazing, in fact, that I became lazy and didn’t bother to remember when things happened because I always knew I could go to her and ask. Therein lies the irony. The person most trusted with our life events was the one who was the first to lose those memories.

But that is not the the version of Mom I choose to remember. Instead, I choose to remember the good times that we shared. Like the time she came to Pittsburgh for my birthday. Dad baked his world famous cheesecake (Sidebar: Dad doesn’t cook or bake much, but he makes a very mean cheesecake.) We had a bunch of toppings for our cheesecake, and we also had lots of liquid refreshment. Before we could stop her, Mom grabbed my beer and poured it over her cheesecake, thinking it was strawberry sauce. We laughed so hard. The tragedy, of course, was that she had to get another slice of cake.

 Singing Sweet Caroline

The last memory I will share with you today is a speech she gave at our wedding. I don’t remember the specifics — because that was 17 years ago! — but I do remember the gist. She said, “The main reason we’re here, in fact, the only reason we’re here, is because of Love.” Mom nailed it. The rehearsal dinner, the flowers, bridesmaids, rings...all of the planning and stress was not why we were there. The real and only reason was because of Love. And I think Mom embodied that message throughout her whole life. She was about Love. It radiated from her like the warmth of the sun.

So that’s it. That’s why we are here. This is a memorial service, and it’s about how we choose to remember my mom, your sister, your aunt, your friend, your wife. And I want to challenge each of you today to be like Mom. Tell funny stories, eat lots of sweets, and Love each other with the same unconditional love that she gave each of us.

Eulogy delivered on June 16, 2018 in The Gibson Room of the Civic Center, Great Falls, MT. Official Obituary.