Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Dear Lauretta, Marie, Joanie and Jane:
I cannot tell you how sorry I am at the passing of your mother. I had planned to drive up today but at 6:00 a.m. we were getting hit with a snow storm.
Your mother was the mother I always wanted. Always welcoming me with open arms, conjuring up some warm soup, pointing the ladle at me and imploring me to “eat something, Ronnie, eat.” I remember with great fondness watching her and Jack carrying on a conversation of sorts, although it always seemed that it was usually going one way, with Jack going along for the ride.
I remember sitting in that living room, in that great reclining chair, staring at those framed photos of the beautiful young Reilly women. Your mother would never let me sit there alone. She’d plop right down and, when she did that, she made a great target for me: “C’mon, Mrs. Reilly, now that we’re alone you can tell the truth. Aren’t I better looking than this Mike guy?” Always diplomatic, she never gave me the personal endorsement I was looking for and she would just say “well, Ronnie, you are a handsome boy but you know she’s known Mike for a very long time.” I’d sit there for what often felt like hours but when I finally smelled the Shalimar, I knew Lauretta was coming down. Still, your mother still felt she had to annouce her with a “Oh, here she is!”
I’ve always thought that one way to judge a parent is by the children they have produced. If that is the test, then Mrs. Reilly was a hell of a person. She and Jack raised some incredible women and all I can say is that I was honored to be a part of your and her life for a short while.
I will be with you in spirit on Thursday. I already cried when I got the news, but I suspect I will cry again today when I think of that wonderful woman who always made me feel at home.
Love to all of you. Ronnie
