Everyone thinks their mom is special. And of course, everyone is right. But our mom, S, was really was incredible. We lost her at the end of this past September 2026.
She had to be twice the parent—and if you know, you know—and somehow she made it look easy. We know it wasn’t. She worked hard, raised my brother and I and gave us a good, stable life. When we were little, Mom subbed at schools so she could spend more time with us. Later, she went back to work full-time, and she still found time to things that made her happy.
Mom was a teacher by profession. She started teaching after college and retired in 2002. She was a natural with kids—warm, patient, friendly—and our friends were always welcomed by her, too.
She was also determined to expose us to the world. She took us to nature centers and museums.
She tried to teach me how to read when I was little.
I declined. Apparently, I had decided that was something my school should handle.
Mom loved Israeli dance, Zumba, and, until very recently, working out with a trainer. She went to operas, ballets, and musicals. Frankly, she had a better social life than I did—even during my “wild 20s.”
She was so constantly on-the-go that eventually it was easier to use the “Find My app” to see where she was. Memorably, we had to search her location one night and I found her at a Tony Danza concert at Queensboro Community College.
And wherever she went, Mom made friends.
Mom was warm and open with people, but on her own terms.
She was also the person you could call when you needed someone to listen.
This summer, Mom hadn’t been feeling well, and then things escalated quickly. We learned that she had cancer. It was not a battle she expected, and it happened very quickly. Too quickly. We were promised more time and we didn’t get it. We were told it could be at least 6 months and it was less than 2. I rage at the quickness that it happened, and some of the things that happened, but in the end, the only thing that mattered was her. Even up to the night she passed away, I knew she loved me. It was hard watching her decline so quickly, but I believe her body was ready before her mind was. And she was trying to let us know, even though she couldn’t speak the words to us. She kept saying that she was “so tired.”
Because my mother was a very private, even saying the word “cancer” was difficult for her. She didn’t want to make a big thing of herself or put her innermost feelings out there. And that includes sharing her thoughts on social media. Knowing that I do share a lot of my life online (I’ve been writing on the interwebs since 2005), I honored her wishes and kept a lot of information to myself -as it wasn’t my right to share what was going on.
But during August and September, so many people showed up for her. K, S, Aunt C, Cousin S, and Cousin R—thank you. You helped make sure Mom was cared for, supported, and surrounded by people who loved her. We will always be grateful. She had tons of friends like Sue K, Sue S, Elaine, and her work friends (Libby, Roz) who would call and text her often. My other cousins were incredible. My girl friends kept me sane and my family was amazing. Then again, I’m not surprised. I leaned on people who didn’t let me down.
We will miss her enormously. We are grateful for every year we had with her, every lesson she taught us, every place she took us, every piece of advice she gave us, and every time she showed up. She helped us take care of our babies adored her four grandchildren, my niece and my three kids. She spent a lot of time with D and S (S and K’s kids in Florida) and also considered them grandchildren. She had lots of grandnieces and grandnephews that she adored. She would make sure she spent time with them at family events and they all have “Aunt Sheila” stories. When we had her funeral and in the days before and after that, I felt supported. To all the friends and family that keep checking in on my brother and I, thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.
I don’t want to forget my mother. And by seeing her photos and hearing her stories, I won’t.
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