“Family isn’t always blood. It’s the people in your life who want you in theirs; the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what.” Unknown

Nearly every Tuesday for the last number of years, my mom’s lifelong friend Joan Farley (or Mom Joan as I lovingly call her) visited my mom and took her to Catholic Mass at the memory care center where my mom lives. Each Tuesday, I would look forward to receiving a selfie of “my two moms” as I’ve come to call them.

Joan Brozek and Sheila Stephens met at St. Joseph’s Academy in St. Paul and quickly became the best of friends. They went on together to the College of St. Catherine. Joan married Patrick Farley, the love of her life, and they raised six amazingly successful boys together and were blessed with 19 grandchildren. Through joy and heartbreak and laughter and tears, my mom and Joan remained the best of friends for 65 years. Only God could take them physically away from each other, which he did this morning as Joan lost her fight with cancer.

When my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in 2010, Joan stepped in with strength, passion and perfection – as she did all things — to mother and grandmother mode, celebrating Sam’s and Jack’s accomplishments and being a confidante and unfailing support system for me. As my son Jack wrote to Joan on June 10, 2019, “when my grandma got sick, you were always there for her and us and I can’t thank you enough for that… you remind me to always keep a smile on my face regardless of what is going on in my life.”

Joan often reminded me that God is good and family comes first. She reminded me that there’s tremendous value in hard work. She told me that disappointments were challenges meant to make us better. She showed me how to be a better mom and always made me feel like a wonderful daughter. She carried on for my mom in reminding me that lipstick is good, and a little blush never hurt anyone. The photo above was taken on Tuesday, June 4, their last Tuesday together. Brilliant women both with not a hair or bit of makeup out of place. She was so beautiful inside and out and I have to believe heaven is just a bit prettier and more organized with my Mom Joan descending upon its gates.

There was never a moment where Joan wasn’t with me in spirit or by my side or on text, coaching me and cheering me on through life’s challenges. Whenever my mom was in the hospital, Joan sat by my side and we prayed and talked and laughed together. On one such day a few years back, I bought three matching Benedictine bracelets for my mom, Joan and me at the hospital gift shop. A priest visited shortly thereafter and blessed them for us. Today I wear Joan’s bracelet as I remember this great lady and carry a piece of her with me.

On Mother’s Day last year, Joan texted me, “your mother always brings me joy.  In the 65 years we have been best friends I can’t think of a time where she didn’t put others first– their needs, their happiness. She is still doing that because she is happy and content. My visits with her on Tuesdays mean so much to me. Just holding her hand makes my heart happy. Yes, I miss our conversations, but jabber on to her anyway. This truly is a hard day for you. I can’t replace your mom but I will always consider you a daughter. You see, your mom is still sharing her most prized possession– YOU.  LOVE.”

 She always closed every text, card and email to me with “LOVE.”

On my final visit with Joan on Wednesday, I read to her from St. Francis de Sales who, along with St. Jane de Chantal, founded the Sisters of the Visitation. One quote on friendship from St. Francis de Sales embodied my mom’s and Joan’s lifelong friendship. “Friendships are even better if they deal with the moral virtues such as prudence, discretion, strength, justice; but if they pertain to charity, the love of God, Christian perfection, then this friendship is truly precious and excellent.”

Today I celebrate a friendship that is precious and excellent and I give thanks for my beautiful Mom Joan. May she Rest in Peace.

Lifelong best friends from left to right, Joan, Patsy, Kitty and my mom.

 She’s still my mom: Finding the joy in Alzheimer’s

Today marked my first Mother’s Day where my mom did not remember my name. While it’s difficult at best and heartbreaking at worst to find joy in these moments, I am reminded how blessed I was to grow up with such a joyful and wonderful mom.

She is content and unaware that she can’t remember her name, her family, or her extensive travels around the world. She no longer feels regret over not knowing the day, month or year or the names of her beloved grandchildren, siblings, nieces or nephews. There is peace in the unknown for her and there is joy in the moment. We are blessed that her moments of joy are constant – as I know that is not always the case with this disease.

My mom smiles at herself in the mirror when her caregivers do her hair each morning. She becomes animated with excitement if she sees a small child, even if it’s a simple picture on my phone or an old movie. She is thrilled when her meals are served each day, and used tell me each day that each meal was the best she had ever eaten.

She grins and lifts her hands when I visit and often greets me with “mom!” – or today “mother!” although her words are fewer each day. She smiles when I dress in bright colors and frowns a bit when I wear ripped jeans or something she doesn’t like. She hugs her caregivers each time she sees them – even if it’s only been a few minutes. And she is always filled with joy and surprise to see me, whether it’s been three minutes, three hours or three days. She’s content when I hold her hand as she once held mine in hers, and I am reminded that I’m blessed to have a mom who loves me unconditionally.

On difficult days like today, though, I long for a conversation with my mom where I can share my thoughts, blessings, frustrations and struggles and hear the same from her. I ache to hear her soft yet strong voice giving me advice and I yearn to visit about nothing and everything with her over a glass of wine. I am comforted that she is safe and happy in her wonderful memory care and I am blessed to be able to see her often, but I miss my mom.

At 78, my mom seems too young to be in the final stage of Alzheimer’s but this disease does not tell time or discriminate. It takes the strongest and the weakest, the kindest and the most unpleasant, the most brilliant and beautiful and the wealthy and poor. However, with everything Alzheimer’s has taken from our family, it has not taken my mom’s joy.

My dear friend whose mother suffered from Alzheimer’s reminded me once that while family and friends suffer at this late stage, the person with Alzheimer’s does not. And she reminded me again today that they find joy in each moment, even when it’s so difficult for us to the same. My Mother’s Day resolution for myself and my wish to you is to find joy in the small things each day – just as my mom would remind us to do.

“A teacher affects eternity. He can never tell where his influence stops.”  Henry Adams

On this the last week of school for my children and many others, I’m reminded of the teachers who have changed my life and those who have so beautifully inspired my sons. For my children, the most notable of these is Julius Tangwe, a revered and respected Theology teacher at St. Thomas Academy. As any of the thousands of parents who have had the good fortune of having their children taught by Mr. Tangwe would attest, every student emerges from his classroom wiser, more thoughtful and more respectful than they began. As a parent, I can’t imagine a greater gift.

A native of Cameroon, Africa, and the grandson of a royal family in Cameroon, Julius Nji Tangwe came to the U.S. in 1996 due to political unrest in Cameroon.  He had heard about Minnesota from friends who were attending the U of M. Mr. Tangwe began teaching at St. Thomas Academy in November 1997 as a long-term substitute teacher of French. He joined the theology department in 1998, and also served as the varsity soccer coach, assistant golf coach and table tennis moderator. Mr. Tangwe became a U.S. citizen in 2013 during a moving naturalization ceremony at St. Thomas Academy.

Mr. Tangwe has received countless accolades and awards during his time at St. Thomas Academy. In 2004, the seniors dedicated the yearbook to him. In 2009, students, parents, alumni and faculty chose him to receive the Myser Family Foundation Faculty Award. And in 2013, he received the Michael Rongitsch Faculty Award from the Fathers’ Club for the way he exemplifies the spirit of the Academy. He has also received the Excellence in Catechesis Award from the Archdiocese of Saint Paul/Minneapolis. As the head soccer coach, Mr. Tangwe took the team to the state championships in 2005 and again in 2015. Mr. Tangwe holds a master’s degree in Education from the University of St. Thomas and a certificate in World Poverty, Human Rights & Development from Harvard University.

I found a quote that a former student wrote about Mr. Tangwe. “The idea of looking at yourself and always striving to do your best, never give up, and continuously better yourself and your community are at the core of what Mr.T taught me. I have learned a great deal from him over the years, and I count myself lucky for being able to call Julius a teacher, a mentor, and a friend.”

For my children, their most memorable moment was on the first day of class when Mr. Tangwe asked them, “Who do you say I am?” Sam and Jack each explained to me that Mr. Tangwe used this question to teach them to approach others as they would approach God. Both boys added that Mr. Tangwe taught them to shake hands, look people in the eye, and be thoughtful and respectful in their greetings and ethical in their actions. The concept of a professor who teaches respect and discipline as well as theology and morality is both comforting to me as a parent but also awe-inspiring. I hold myself to a higher standard in wanting to live up to what Mr. Tangwe has taught my boys and so many others.

In spite of his tremendous intellect, background, leadership, bright smile and deep faith, Mr. Tangwe is humble and teaches humility to our sons every day. He frequently reminds Jack, my very confident 14-year-old, to bow his head and be thankful for the gifts God has given him. Mr. Tangwe could arguably have chosen any career he wanted or any path in life. I am so thankful that he and so many others like him chose teaching. His influence will last an eternity.

Mr. Tangwe at his naturalization ceremony at St. Thomas Academy in 2013.

For most parents I know, watching their children graduate from high school is a proud moment, but not unexpected. We send our kids to the best schools, camps, lessons and the like from a very young age. They learn a foreign language and an instrument and play a variety of sports if we’re lucky. Many of us hire tutors and sign our young ones up for study classes and test prep. We do all this with the expectation they will graduate and go on to a good college, maybe study abroad, and then hopefully move on to an equally wonderful graduate program and then to an even better career. Most importantly, we hope they become benevolent, faithful members of society and that they fall in love, get married and produce equally perfect, Ivy League-bound grandchildren.

It all sounds so simple. And in hindsight, completely unrealistic. Yet it’s the vision Brian and I had for our first son Sam when he started kindergarten.

From early on, however, we knew the picture we had of an obstacle-free, trophy-filled tour to higher education was not going to be the case for Sam.  He was first diagnosed with ADHD when he was six after his kindergarten teacher reported that he had trouble “sitting.” No one in our family had ever had trouble sitting before so we didn’t really understand the diagnosis. We got a second opinion and a third, each one more conclusive and expansive than the last. And frankly, the signs that something was different about Sam started young. He spoke in complete sentences almost before he could walk, but spent over a year learning to write his name. He started reading at four, but by six, he still couldn’t write a complete sentence. He was precocious, articulate and beautiful but clumsy and awkward at the same time. The hours and days we envisioned for sports and playdates was spent on speech therapy, vision therapy and at doctor appointments for his severe asthma, allergies and countless injuries. While he was friendly and social, he had trouble connecting with other kids and even more trouble making and keeping friends. He was later diagnosed with a number of other neurological challenges and by middle school, had fallen further and further behind socially, academically and emotionally.

After four different schools in as many years and feeling hopeless that Sam would ever graduate from high school much less go on to college, we enrolled him at Groves Academy three years ago as he was starting his sophomore year. Groves is Minnesota’s only school dedicated to kids who learn differently. From the day we walked in to Groves, Brian, Sam and I felt a sense of calm and relief. Groves literally changed our lives. After his first year, Sam had moved up from one to four grade levels academically in every class. He made friends. He developed self-confidence. He embraced his differences and slowly those around him did as well. Each and every teacher and administrator we encountered at Groves was exceptionally bright, caring and patient — and Sam tested all of these virtues.

Sam graduates from Groves Academy today. He is traveling to Europe with Groves in a few weeks. He has a summer job assistant teaching at Groves.  He starts college at Bethel University in the fall. In a jagged, painful, obstacle-filled journey with more tears and prayers than laughter, the unrealistic dream we had for Sam really did come true thanks to his hard work and belief that he could do anything he set his non-traditional mind to.  The sense of pride and amazement I feel today watching Sam graduate is beyond the crazy dreams I had for his perfect life. I am so grateful to Groves Academy and so proud of Sam. Being his mom is the greatest gift and has taught me the most valuable of life’s lessons. On Sam’s graduation announcement is a quote, “He believed he could so he did.”

In hindsight, my unrealistic beliefs and dreams for Sam’s education may not have been as crazy as they now seem looking back. We have tried to raise our kids from a young age believing they could do anything because we believed it. Sam believed he could so he did and maybe some of that faith in himself came from our quixotic dreams.