Margaret H. "Helen" Deltuvia
Jackson, NJ
1936 – 2022

Eulogy
Composed by Helen's eldest child John Jr.
Delivered at the George Hassler Funeral Home
June 28,2022

"Come, Thou Dayspring, come and cheer our spirits by Thine advent here.
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night, And death's dark shadows put to flight."

My Mom had been without the love of her life, my Dad, for the past fifteen years.
They were deeply devoted to each other, and I can't really understand how she lived that long.
They had been told that it was unlikely that my Dad could father children;
he had mumps at 17, and that took it to an 80% chance they'd have no children —
and still they married after a five–year courtship.
What love that must have been for a woman brought up and trained to be a mother:
to take that chance of no children.

They were married in January of 1962.
In December of 1962, I arrived — three weeks later than expected.
My siblings Pat and Ellen came along in their own good time, as well.

Wife and mother, and sibling to six other people, five of which survive her —
that was the vocation of 1st–generation American Catholic girls brought up in Brooklyn.

But she was so much more.

Catholic women of my Mom's generation often kept their deeds,
other than that of a wife and mother, in the background.

Mom was an active participant in the right–to–life cause:
crocheting booties for babies for the Birthright organization, picketing the Howell abortion clinic,
and bringing along water and lemonade so the picketers didn't get dehydrated.
Mom also marched, in the 1970s, a few times at the right–to–life rally in DC.

Now, my Dad got the newspaper credit for presenting a petition to the zoning board of adjustment,
opposing a shopping center and gas station close to a large housing development.
But my Mom organized the neighbors (this was pre–web, door–to–door)
to carry petitions around the entire development to gather signatures.
If not for her work on this — while raising three children —
there wouldn't have been a petition to present.

When recession threatened our family finances, Mom took part–time jobs —
first as a bookkeeper for a local music store, and then,
when another recession came along, back–office work for a bank —
and still got dinner on the table on time.

When my Dad's parents were hospitalized within a week of each other —
Grandma for colon cancer, Grandpa for a heart attack —
Mom turned our home's nominal dining room
into an after–care room and took care of their health needs,
never neglecting getting dinner on the table
or watching the neighborhood kids playing in our backyard with my siblings and I.
She did that again for Grandma when she had to have another cancer operation.

She also gave my Uncle Pat and Aunt Carol a week's staycation
from taking care of Grandpa Norcott when he was ill:
setting up a bed, caring for his needs,
even taking him out to Great Adventure to see the animals
and into the park briefly so he could see me at my job.

Dinner still got on the table. Somehow.

Mom's final illness started in March of this year. We thought it was under control,
with my brother Pat as her primary caretaker,
shopping for her, preparing her meals, ensuring that she took her medicines,
and modifying the house so her walker and wheelchair could fit into the bathroom.
Ellen and I started making longer–term plans to get a house
where Mom would live with my partner Elizabeth and I as her home health aides
(except when we were working in the office three times a week.)
We were hoping for a few years of this,
encouraging her to do her exercises.

But Eternity had other plans.

She was re–hospitalized on my late Dad's birthday, June 24,
the feast of the birth of St. John the Baptist.
The next day, she was watching the news feed on the hospital TV
and said "Roe v. Wade overturned? Yay!"

That night, her path to misery was closed forever.
The way that leads on high was made safe for her,
and her heavenly home was opened wide to greet her.

She is and will be much missed by many.


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Page created and maintained by John J. Deltuvia, Jr.
Last updated: July 1, 2022 2:51 PM