“Did you know you brighten my day? You are like sunshine to me.”
This is how Mom greeted my daily visits at rehab. This was the essence of Lorraine Barbara Kubik Skrinak.
She radiated an authentic, and charismatic love to you, whether you where her son, or the maintenance guy changing the light bulb. Even with a failing body and brain, her love, unmistakable, came through. More than her love, Mom was also a fighter, an innovator and self-reinventor. She taught without teaching and loved without treacle.
I won’t let her life pass, however, without a quick recap of a remarkable life.
Mom was born on March 18, 1928, to first-gen Americans in the hardscrabble of coal-cracking NE PA. She told me stories of blackouts during WWII, her gifted academics, artistry, and a love for fashion and becoming a seamstress.
After high school, Mom worked at Pomeroy’s where she met my Dad. He was a charismatic contrarian with big plans. Go figure that Jackie Gleason was his favorite actor. They married in 1954 and soon Kim, Karen, Kris, and finally I came along. Dad and Mom had also started an advertising agency, complimenting each other’s talents. Our family, and their business, Wes Advertising soon thrived. Everything for the perfect life was in place.
God had other plans.
Doctors diagnosed Dad with cancer in 1966, and after a painful year-long battle, Dad passed. He was only 41. Mom took over the advertising agency, despite the sharp rebuke of that time and place. Wes Advertising stayed open and provided an income for Mom to raise her children. Death came again in 1970, when her Mom, Nellie, died of cancer. A flooding hurricane left us homeless for several months in 1972. A year after that, our house burned down, myself trapped on the second floor, leaping into my sister’s arms to break my fall. Then, in 1976, my beautiful sister Karen died in a car accident.
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You would forgive anyone for losing sanity at this point. Mom kept it together. Mom fought on. Not with swinging fists, but a steady and unyielding heart. Rather than collapse, while continuing her agency, Mom joined the American Cancer Society. She didn’t like what she saw, she started “Spark of Life” dedicated to fighting cancer. Mom later joined the March of Dimes, always seeking ways to give, despite her modest means. She continued to work in a variety of sales-related jobs after that.
Elena and I moved to NC in 1994. We thought it would be a good idea to move Mom while she was in good health, and we had our newborn daughter Katlyn as bait. The plan worked.
We three sons worked together to help Mom whenever and however we could. When Kris’s career took off, he bought a house that Mom lived in for many years, and then, later, an apartment where Kris and I shared costs. Finally, since Elena and I had room, we moved Mom into our house, where she lived until her stroke in 2016.
I visited Mom her first post-stroke day at Pettigrew rehab. With shaking hand and stuttering words, Mom pointed to the beauty of a bluebird perched on a bush outside her window. It took everything she had to point to the simple beauty of this bird. I had never seen such a marvelous bird before. Even in the darkness of her condition, her irrepressible spirit abounded.
It was our honor, our desire, and not our duty, to be there for Mom in her winter years.
People have kindly remarked that “I’m such a good boy.” for taking care of Mom. Speaking for my brothers, whom we all have, always, taken care of Mom, I’m just showier about it. For me, the man behind the green curtain was Elena. Mom loved her pea soup. I say this, because my visits wouldn’t pass without Mom asking for Elena’s pea soup. Sandy’s support for Kimmer, and Allison’s for Kris, helped us help mom. We brothers cannot imagine any other choice – to want to help Mom. Our choice was in love, through love, a desire to support Mom. It was a desire as natural and strong as one’s own desires, like laughing or eating. You should hopefully see this fact clearly now. It’s what she taught us, by living it.
Back in the early ’90s when Macs were new, you could make the error beep sound anything you wanted. I was working when my Mac robotically burped the error ding. “I don’t like that.” Mom said. “Your computer should say, ’You’re such a good boy.’ when you make a mistake.” “Mom, I love the idea.” So, I recorded Mom saying that. People loved hearing it.
Mom had a knack for repeating key phrases, such as the cute things her children or grandchildren would say. When I was a kid, my attempt at Handel’s Messiah became “Ha-Ray-Roo-RA CHISH CHISH” my trying to imitate the sound of cymbals. Or “I’m gonna pee… in the blue…” after my son learned the joys of toilet bowl cleaner tablets and their blue dye. “I’m gonna get thome nutsth.” As my then four-year-old daughter determinedly waddled to the cupboard. “I’m sending you lots of pink bubbles,” she would tell Kris and Allison as a way of sending her love.
Twenty-five years ago, my wedding tasked me with writing a toast to my Mom. As I thought through great figures of history, Socrates, Augustine, Michelangelo, Aquinas, Einstein, only one person kept bubbling up in my thoughts. Not with fanfare, but quiet, steady determination, like there was no other choice. It was Mom.
Mom is my inspiration, motivation, and example of how to live, how I should be and how I should love. Speaking for my brothers and myself, we weren’t being good to be good. We were loving Mom as she taught us how to love.
Mom and I continually shared our hope at seeing Dad and Karen once again. There is a glorious family reunion that started on Tuesday at 12:50 PM. My heart aches at losing Mom but the thought of their reunion gives me great joy and hope.
Mom, I love you. I know you love me. My brothers, your children, grandchildren, Kim and Sandy, Kris, Allison, Savannah and Trinity, Elena Katlyn, Alexa, Will and me, and all your family and friends, we all love you. We never doubted your love. Not ever.