Welcome to Thanks for being here. Very short pod that comes out every Sunday morning as

Sundays are such a good time to let go of the day to day and touch base with what matters,

what will matter and what will have mattered. The answer to that question for me is often

found in ceremonies I could watch strangers get married once a week and I'm even more affected

by funerals. Sitting in a service, taking in the story of one life, just another ordinary

person who they loved and who loved them. In a way, eulogies are about the most succinct

source of clarity and direction I can think of. So I ask listeners who have lost someone dear

to share their words and every week I'll read one eulogy here so that we don't forget

there is a point to the pain. We have much to offer. We affect each other deeply and that ordinary

lives are really kind of exquisite when you look at them closely. This is thanks for being here.

Today's thanks for being here is extra great. It's written by a woman named Carter

about her mother who sounds pretty spectacular. I'm Carter and the only position of authority

with which I can speak is as my mother might say as her baby love child. Several people have said

to me thank you for sharing your mother with us. If you had any idea of the intensity, the downright

ferocity of her love for her children, you would understand when I say no, thank you. It took all

of you, multitudes of other friends, boards, events, the generation of children and a Baltimore-sized

challenge to dilute my mother's love to a manageable level. She was my biggest fan and greatest

advocate, but she was also the matron of honor in my wedding and my choice blessing. You know the macro

version of my mom. I know the micro. Here's a view from the back seat. My mother had perfect lips.

She would put that pink Revlon lipstick on in one swipe while driving smacker lips together

and it was perfect every time. She took a nightly bath with a splash from the big bottle of

Gina Tay in the bathroom off my bedroom. Much of the summer, she smelled like Bandit Soleil,

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