THANK YOU all for coming today. Thank you for your prayers and messages of consolation and love. I want to thank this beautiful faith community at St. William the Abbott Parish. My mother has been a parishioner for fifty-four years — since 1969. So many of you have shared much faith, prayer, and love. THANK YOU!
• Download the order of service for the Funeral Mass here.
Many know our mother in different capacities. She impacted many lives in ways we may never know — quietly, faithfully, and steadfastly. My sister Laura writes, “She was a shining light to so many people and an incredibly dedicated and generous wife, mother, grandmother, and teacher.” She was also a selfless caregiver. She was devoted to the generations of students in her charge. She was fiercely dedicated to her family. She was a deeply steadfast friend.
And Christ was the center of her life.
The daughter of Antonio and Gilda Pieretti, Italian immigrants from Tuscany, her first language growing up of course was Italian. She only learned English when attending Our Lady of Pompeii School in Greenwich Village on Bleecker Street.
IN THOSE DAYS, for a Pieretti to marry a CLARK of Scottish and Irish descent was a bold move! One might joke this was a “mixed marriage.” My mother would tell us stories of nosy neighbors pushing her to date certain affluent and influential men. She rejected one outright after he made a negative comment about the local Catholic school. But my mother was impressed with my father’s prayerfulness and devotion to God. She was impressed with his broad interests in music, art, literature, his intellectual curiosity, and his enjoyment in learning more about most anything. He was a man of prayer, and they were married on February 20, 1960.
• How my parents met: Donald J. Clark • Words of Remembrance
To know my mother, and perhaps what drove her, one needs to know a couple of other dates on the calendar. First: Most fittingly, she was born on October 7th, the Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary. What better day could there be? She had a great devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary as did my father. They both prayed the rosary together most nights.
A SECOND DEEPLY SIGNIFICANT DATE: Our bother Paul Vincent was born on September 15, 1961 — on the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows. Born with an esophageal fistula, he could not eat normally a day in his life and required countless painful surgeries. He suffered greatly. A little more than two years later after a failed surgery, my mother and Paul prayed the Our Father together with Paul finishing each line as best as he could. Knowing it was the end, my mother told him, “Go to your Blessed Mama in heaven,” and on October 19, 1963, he died in my mother’s arms.
I tell this story not to be sentimental or dramatic, but to understand the motives, the development of faith, conviction, and character of my mother and father. My mother truly understood the words of the Stabat Mater:
At the cross her station keeping
Stood the mournful Mother weeping,
Close to Jesus to the last.
SUCH TRAGEDY and sorrow often drive newly married couples apart. Indeed, my mother told me that when Paul was lowered into the ground she felt something inside of her died as well.
BUT … my mother had a fierce faith in the Resurrection and the life everlasting. Happily, my sister, Laura, was born four months later and Joanne the year after, and me a few years later. Legend has it that the first word Laura learned was “down” because she wouldn’t keep still!
My parents always told us that Paul strengthened their faith. There was meaning and purpose to suffering. It was witness to the sufferings of Jesus Christ and his mother Mary. This witness was transformed within my mother into even deeper love and compassion.
Such compassion in my mother revealed itself as a teacher, as a friend, as a daughter, a wife, mother, and grandmother.
Her suffering allowed her to see others — strangers and family alike — as God sees — with the eyes of unconditional love.
This is no small thing. It’s profound. Always the diplomat, and always allowing grace in others, she had great capacity how to see people in the same manner as God sees us — as beloved, as deeply precious, perfect as God intended, as fearfully and wonderfully made.
I am not saying these things as a form of hagiography. She was not perfect. Growing up, it’s safe to say she could be a little “fiery” with us with little provocation and with a bit more frequency than I may have cared for. With the benefit of decades of hindsight, I understand she was as an overtired, exhausted, stressed-out parent, who was stretched thin raising three children, caring for two elderly parents, and an elderly mother-in-law. Her daily commute from Seaford to Manhattan five days a week alone was exhausting. Not being at home with her children killed her. The post-Vietnam economy was capricious as the 1970s ushered in the necessity of two-income households.
She had qualities that could be particularly annoying to us especially when growing up, but they were in fact excellent qualities, as we were forged in the crucible of her expectations. She was exacting. She was tough. She was demanding of us spiritually and intellectually. And she was often immutable. She herself was strong physically, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. She required the same of her children. But it stuck, because underlying her demands, her strong head and heart were softened with love. Ultimately, she saw everyone as God’s precious creation deserving of love and respect.
THIS VIEW ALSO DROVE HER AS A TEACHER. My mother taught third grade and later first grade at P.S. 41 in Greenwich Village on West 11th Street, from the 1950s through 1961 when Paul was born, and later from 1975-1994. She was responsible for educating a broad cross-section of children from a variety of family circumstances. In those days Greenwich Village was very economically diverse. She taught children of famous actors and politicians. She educated children who lived in difficult neighborhoods. Mom would come home with fascinating stories about her days — some heartfelt, some humorous, some sad. I learned at a young age a difficult reality that too many of these families were broken apart, and these children were only six or seven years old.
My mother was often the most stable influence in some of these children’s lives. She gave structure and was firm. She did so with love. In the words of one parent, her daughter thrived in a classroom in which “qualities of firmness and structure were blended with a good measure of freedom and encouragement of independent styles.” In the classroom, my mother was brilliant, creative, and adept through changing times. God had a special calling for her, and through this work, she impacted countless lives for the better.
My mother wasn’t very good at staying retired. After 1994, she continued to teach at PS 41 as a substitute teacher for many years, sometimes five days a week if she wished, such was the demand for her skill. She also taught catechism at St. William the Abbott Parish for ten years, continuing to be that stable influence of love.
MY MOTHER WAS AMONG THE EARLIEST ACTIVISTS in the Right-to-Life movement, mobilizing to assist mothers particularly within the organization Birthright. She did so along with another St. William the Abbott parishioner, Patricia Shea, Founder and Executive Director of MOMMAS House. I have very early memories in the early 1970s of Birthright meetings in different homes as these women organized ways to concretely help suffering and desperate mothers and their babies.
I could go on and on, but it is clear my mother had keen influence on many through her actions. She taught most profoundly by example.
Finally, I have a word for our family, and many around us whom we consider family.
First, my sisters, Laura and Joanne have been heroic in caring for Mom and Dad. I think it is important to repeat here what I have told you before because it is in great measure a testament to our parents, and it is this:
Laura, Joanne: I had a blast growing up with you two. I loved growing up with you and being your little brother (or not so little brother). You inspired me. I learned so much. You were fun and utterly fascinating. I love you both dearly.
Secondly, to my mother’s grandchildren:
(Each one called by name), remember what I said about Grandma seeing others with the eyes of God. She sees you as God sees you.
To Grandma, each and every one of you is precious and perfect in her eyes. I hope you see in yourself this way. She was deeply proud of each of you. She loved you, and know that she still loves you. Never forget this. I will be reminding you.
To her niece and nephew, Jimmy and Lisa, you were a son and daughter to her and precious in her eyes. She loves you deeply.
To Maxime and your beautiful family, you are family to us. For thirteen years you cared for my father and then my mother. You greatly lengthened their days without a doubt. You shared your faith with them. She respected and loved you dearly.
Thank you, Katiana for being a steady and calming presence through difficult times, even when you have your own family to care for. Thank you, Tahina who often took my mother to Mass, the highlight of her week.
EVEN JESUS WEPT when Lazarus was in the tomb. Today we are filled with sorrow, but there is reason to be joyful. Saint Paul writes:
“For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:37-38)
Nor are we separated from the love of our dear beloved mother, grandmother, aunt, and friend. My mother loved you as she loved God all with all her mind, body, and soul. Unconditional love is her gift that remains with us always.
MY MOTHER WOULD ASK that you pray fervently for the repose of her soul. She took great comfort in her last days praying the rosary with us. She received the sacraments. She spent her last days telling us over and over how much she loves us, and how much she loves all of you.
And with this love, we pray:
“Hail Mary, full of grace…”
Wife, mother, grandmother, friend, we love you.
— February 25, 2024, Seaford, New York
Delivered at the wake following the Vigil for the Deceased
