Carol Catherine (Hayes) Borgersen
August 31, 2019 by Jan Martin Borgersen
(My eulogy at her memorial)
I’d like to read a slightly updated version of the tribute I posted on Facebook.
Dearest Mom,
Your heart stopped beating Friday night, August 9.
You looked fantastic in July, when I saw you right after Cousin Barbara passed away. We are all a bit surprised by how quickly you got sick. But you said to your friend Marie: "I think Mickey really wants me back." So it must have been time.
I'm so thankful I got to see you twice this summer, even though both times were under sad circumstances. I was thrilled to see you recover enough in the hospital to chastise me for spending money to come see you. But you also said some very touching things to me, and I will forever cherish those last moments.
Your life was a story-book, true-love romance novel, just like the Outlander books you loved so much. You met Dad in the Bronx at 13, and you were together over 70 years. You waited for him when he joined the Navy, and then you journeyed together from New York through North Carolina before settling in Rotonda West, FL. You endured a war in Korea and three major hurricanes. Dad was the sailor, and you were his lighthouse. You waited twenty years for me to arrive, only to let me leave for school at 15. Your life was full of love, and sarcasm, and wit. Through it all your bond with my father is eternal, and transcends this plane.
If Dad taught me to “show up” with his certificate of perfect attendance, and his volunteering and community service, you taught me to “take it to another level.” You were an artist, with incredible attention to detail, and you were never happy with just one. You mass produced. Each year at Christmas you would send dozens of hand-painted ornaments to your friends and family as gifts. You even prepared 179 as wedding favors when Sinead and I got married. If each ornament keeps a tiny piece of yourself inside, you have managed to spread yourself the world over, and your spirit on earth will outlive the rest of us.
Your journey over the last two years has been another hero's story arc, and I am so proud of you. After 70 years with Dad, you had to let him leave in January last year. You were holding his hand.
So we moved you to a new home and a new life at Heritage Oaks. I felt like I was dropping you off in a college dorm, watching you take a leap of faith that will mold you into something new.
You grieved at Heritage Oaks.
But then you blossomed, finding the social life and purpose you had been missing. Surrounded by others with similar stories, Gloria asked to read for a group of girls who had trouble reading themselves. "I'm a little worried," you said to me once. "These are adult books." "WHAT??" I asked, confused. You replied: "I'm just used to reading to second graders."
You truly enjoyed living at Heritage. "I'm so lucky," you would say to me. "The people here are so friendly! And the place is beautiful."
You told me that every night you talked to Dad. "He's staring right at me from the picture on the desk. He doesn't say much, but I know what he's thinking!"
Well Dad's been close these last few weeks. I have felt him. He sang to me through my children, and through the songs I heard in the airports. He hasn't said much out loud, but I know what he's thinking: "It's okay, Jan, things are going to be fine. I love you, kid. Thank you for holding on to her, and helping her remember the person she has always been. Now it's time for her to come back home."
Good-bye one last time, Mom. It's now my turn to let you leave. Heritage didn't mold you into something new, but it did chip away all the dirt and the hurt and it re-exposed and reaffirmed the person you have always been. And the person you will always be. I love you, Mom, but go be "Carol and Mickey" again. You are ready.
Carol Catherine (Hayes) Borgersen
March 24, 1934 - August 9, 2019
