August 10, 2013 It seems like yesterday that Mary Rose was born in our peaceful upstairs bedroom in our home, surrounded by her siblings and several of our friends here today. When she was born, I help her close, not knowing if she was a boy or a girl, and after a few moments I held her up and with joy announced to all, “It is Mary Rose!” That was all that was important, that said it all- she was “Mary Rose”. That name came from someone special and grew to be an adjective in and of itself. Now, Mary Rose is a beautiful and compassionate married woman whom we have cherished all these years and are so proud of.
We haven’t known Ryan to long- less than a year and frankly, that concerned us. Recently, less than a month ago, Mary Rose had an emergency appendectomy. Ryan came rushing to our house at midnight when he heard Mary Rose was in a great deal of pain. I watched him sit beside her through emergency rooms, the sudden operation, complications in recovery and the process of healing- all the while knowing that hospitals and needles were definitely not his thing! I saw him encourage her, hold her hand…he never left her side, he saw the sickness , the emotions, the raw side of Mary Rose and showed only love and patience…it was then I knew he was with her “for better or worse, in sickness and in health…” I knew that she found a man of integrity, compassion and warmth...a man of God.
When they were first engaged I wrote, “As joy and love and excitement fill your hearts, as you hold hands and look to a future walking together in the same direction, as Christ has started you on this journey, so may He lead you on. We want you to know that our blessings, as Mary Rose’s parents, are with you. We are peaceful and have a deep assurance that God intended both of you for each other and He has directed your paths to this moment and He will direct your paths from here forward, eyes on Him, into a life that will bring Him glory and a marriage that will be an example of God’s Love for us all. I love you both and toast to your amazing future. Mom
I
sit alone as dark envelopes the day and one by one my beloved solar lights
flicker on, dimly lighting the night.With wine glass in hand, in my Adirondack chair, I fade into the
night.A young stranger walks by, barely
seen but yells out, “You have a beautiful house.”I reply into the night, “Thanks.” Then I hear
him exclaim to his companion but for me to hear, “This is the American
Dream”’.My immediate and probably
confusing response into the night, to that stranger, was, “Looks can be
deceiving.”
“The
American Dream”?What was my dream?To have and raise a large and loving
family.A family that laughs together,
that holds each other in seasons of loss and sadness, that are honest and
natural with one another, that finds joy in worshipingtogether - a family that looks forward to
being together- a Thanksgiving table abundantly full of food and friends and
love.I dreamt of home as a safe haven
from the woes of the world- where the hearth was always warm and
welcoming.A place that brought memories
and anticipations of hot chocolate, crackling fires, curled up side by side
under a blanket, offering our warmth to one another.That is my American Dream—my naïve dream as I
married and started a family.A naïve
dream that I have held onto through all the ups and downs of all these years.
What
has that dream done to those I love?It
has left them, so I’m told, feeling enmeshed, strangled. Tangled in the
tradition and memories of youth.A place
from which distance of time and space cannot be too far and the restrictions of
contact and interest never enough.
It has left me confused and bewildered as to
my role at this point in my life.Be
there when life hurts too deeply and I
need your comfort or when clothes need to be washed or money needed, but don’t
ask how my day was or what I might be doing tomorrow, don’t talk of fun
memories or even create new ones -as that is also suspect.The parent has become the puppet only allowed
to move or speak at the whims of the puppeteers, otherwise desired to lay quiet
and still its box until called upon at some later time.
Is
it such a struggle- becoming an adult? Is
it really needed-to put the parent on a
spinning wheel and throw darts hoping one will penetrate deep enough that
somehow that will release one enough to “find themselves” and become an adult?It seems so, at least in this “American Dream”
for I have had to be put on that spinning wheel more than once- and yes, the
darts do penetrate- yes they hurt- and I am silent.
My
kind stranger... the “American Dream”- is that what this is?The lights you see on the outside- I so wish
they would chase away the darkness I feel inside.I need a new dream… where can I find that? A dream that looks on the outside the same as
it is inside...a dream I can share without harming others and can honestly reply
to that strange, “Yes, thank you, this is MY American dream.”
Miracle Moments are something learned about when Mike passed away. Little events, “coincidences”, that are beyond just chance that say in a profound way, “I am with you- I am OK- I love you.” There were many of those yesterday.
When Rick and I arrived at Westminster Memorial Park on Monday, February 6, 2012, having given Mom her last car ride- buckled in the front seat with me in the back- just as it always was, we were surprised to find her site beautifully canopied with chairs set up and a table for her urn. I felt an immediate need for worship music- and especially to play “The Old Rugged Cross” so I sat in the car, called Mary Rose to find out how to download Pandora and search for “The Old Rugged Cross”. I downloaded OK but could not come up with “The Old Rugged Cross” but finally accepted worship music and went to the grave site. I found that both Mom and Dad’s marker and Aunt Kate’s had been polished again and looked shiny and almost new and they had neatly trimmed around both markers. . I also saw that they had finally found the vase in the grass and had uncovered it and placed the flowers that we left Saturday in it. I was touched. The young man from Westminster backed off and simply said, “Take all the time you want.” At one point he commented ‘“Your Mom liked Christian Music?’ I said that she did but I really was looking for “The Old Rugged Cross”. He, being younger than I, took my phone to try to find it to no avail. Rick prayed for us, we wept and listened to the worship music.
After some time we told the young man that it was OK to bring the grounds crew to do the burial. I thought of Mike as once he was one of these crew members-a bit of a tough job. They were very respectful as they exposed the pre-dug hole and place Mom on top of Dad’s casket- the Celtic Cross facing skyward. They placed shovels full of dirt on top and with the very last shovel full that filled the grave, “The Old Rugged Cross” came on Pandora. I burst into tears. The young man, who is shortly to leave for Boston to study for the Priesthood, said, “Your Mom wanted to wait until this moment- some things are just meant to be.” We listened to the song as they placed the sod and immediately afterwards “Amazing Grace” played...and of course, Grandma Janet came to our hearts. Two songs after that was “His Eye is on the Sparrow”- the song Deven sang at Grandpa Rae’s funeral- I had not heard that song before and not again until yesterday. Take the time to listen to it- the words are beautiful and a comfort.
So—after more tears, a visit with Marmee and Grandee, and a last good-bye to Mom and Dad, we left the park. As we were at the exit gate, the radio on in the car, the announcer said, “This day’s theme is- Let Go and Let God”-one of Mom's life sayings. In tears we looked at each other and could only exclaim, “Really?” Rick took me to Polly’s Pie Palace for breakfast—our server was Charlie! Not such a common name these days. At the end of the day- before our flight home, Rick, Mary Rose and I went to Newport pier to watch the sunset. Mom loves the ocean and sunsets- as do I. It was beautiful and peaceful. We decided we had just enough time to get a fast dinner before leaving for the airport so we would just get whatever was at the end of the pier. The choices at the end of the pier??? Charlie’s Chili and Jane’s Corndogs!!! Really? We choose Charlie’s Chili and from my seat I looked up and they had a Fire station/firefighter sign on the wall. Really?
I don’t know what all to make of these “Miracle Moments” but in my heart I feel we were being reassured that Mom, Dad and Mike and are together, still loving all of us, and at peace in their new eternal home.
Celebration of the Life of Janet Woolington Simonson July 10, 2011
Phil. 4:8-9
And now, brothers, as I close this letter let me say one more thing: Fix your thoughts on what is true and good and right. Think about things that are pure and lovely and dwell on the fine, good things in others. Think about all you can Praise God for and be glad about it. Keep putting into practice all you learned from me and saw me doing and the God of peace will be with you.”
These words were book marked and underlined in Janet’s Bible—the first verses I read shortly after she passed from this life. It, to me, embodied all I knew Janet to be in the 43 years I knew her as a mother-in-law, mentor and friend. These verses embodied especially what she shared with me the last week of her life.
I was privileged to be one of those to be able to be by Janet’s side in her last days, honored to share intimate moments with her and be enriched by her words of wisdom and abiding faith in Christ.
On Monday we thought we had lost her…I am convinced that on that day she was given a glimpse of Heaven. Later that day she was exclaiming, “WOW—WOW—WOW”. I asked, “What is WOW?” She responded, “It was so surprising, so surprising.” I asked her if she had gone somewhere. She quickly responded, “Yes”. I asked her to tell me about it and she told me, “There was Light, Light…and …Freedom”. I asked her if she thought she saw Heaven and with a tender smile she responded, “I think so…”.
Another time, as she was saying, “Let me go…please let me go”. In attempt to make sure we were not misunderstanding her intent, Rick asked, “Go where Mom?” She paused, almost incredulous, opened her eyes and in a firm voice said, “Heaven of course!!”
Janet had so much to share that last week:
* She told Carleen, “Love Makes the Path Straight.”
* She told my children, “Spread your talents around.”
* Of the little children, likely her favorite group of people, she said "The little children—they are the best—their minds are just discovering. I love the little children.”
One of her most fervent messages was, “Each One Teach One”. Over and over again she told us, “Each one teach one.” Seeming to want to be certain we got the message and it’s importance. The day she was welcomed into Heaven, afterwards, I took a walk along the beach with my children. Stephen started digging for sand crabs. A young boy-about the age of 11- asked Stephen to teach him how to dig for sand crabs. Stephen took the time to teach him and be sure he was successful. We continued our walk and later returning to the same spot, we saw that same young boy teaching 2 younger boys to catch sand crabs! The 11 year old yelled to Stephen, “Look- I caught a big one!” As the rest of us watched, we all said, “Each One Teach One…this one is for you Grandma!”
One of the times I was alone with her, she told me, as she was pulling off her oxygen mask, “Medicine is NOT an exact science.” She then chuckled slightly and I asked her, “Are you cracking yourself up?” Janet quipped back, “Sometimes you just have to crack yourself up!!!”
On Monday, when Janet was struggling through this transition of her life, I leaned close to her ear and quietly began to sing, “Amazing Grace.” And immediately she calmed and began singing along with me, knowing words and verses I had forgotten. She sang from the depths of her soul. For the next four days that song carried her through. At times of agitation we learned that she was asking for us to sing “Amazing Grace” again. In the last hours of her life, when she could hardly speak- her voice still rang clear with the words, “And Grace Will Lead me Home.”
She prayed often those last days and asked often for prayer. “Take my Hand, set me Free” she would pray. Jesus was her Light. She asked Him to show her “The Way” and He did. She wanted her family to know of her Faith in Jesus Christ, her Lord and Savior. He is the LOVE that makes the crooked path straight.
I was with Janet, holding her hand, as she drew her last breath- peacefully in the Huntington Beach condo she so longed to return to, --- the Grace of God Led Her Home.
How deeply pleased Janet, Great Janet, Grandma Janet, Mother, Sister and Friend, would be to hear her Great Granddaughter Madeline, Granddaughter Mary Rose, son-in-law Robert Henry and Grandson Deven Simonson sing “Amazing Grace”. Listen prayerfully to the words. They are her words and her message to all of us from a wonderful woman who lived her own life with “Amazing Grace.”
One year ago today, June 7, 2011 my brother, Mike McGroarty, graduated to heaven. I was by his side, holding his hand as he left. I am forever changed, living with a constant ache in my heart, but rejoice that he now lives free from pain in the Light of our Lord. I just miss him.
For my brother who went home 6 months ago today and all of us who miss him to the depths of our souls...we grieve... but not without HOPE. I Love You http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pcYRr1dk7wA
“Some men leave their mark on the world by the way they live and the difference they make in the lives they touch” I stand here today overwhelmed by the numbers and depth with which my brother touched lives
world-wide.
I’m Mike’s “lit’l sis”- I’ve known him my entire life!He was the brother who spent years trying to convince me I was adopted, that told our Mom when I was 13 to let me wear make-up because “Really Mom, she needs it!” He was the brother all my girlfriends wanted to be around because he was so “dreamy” and they carried secret crushes on him.He was the bass player in the band “So Rare” and I loved listening to him practice in the garage.The bass he played then, 45 years ago, is the same bass being played today by his nephew.
He was crowned “Coed King” in high school, led the marching band as the drum major and truthfully was always a bit of a pyromaniac at home.
As we became adults, we grew to be closer friends. I remember one particularly hard time in my life when he called and reached my soul as he said, “I love you, sis, you know that, I love you.”
He never lost his humor, even as the pain from cancer became excoriating.I cherish hearing him quip with the hospice nurse, just 3 weeks ago, as she explained their services which included pet therapy.Mike immediately exclaimed, “Pet therapy that is great because our dog really needs some therapy!”!
My brother, the hero, was a very humble man and I count that as one of his most cherished characteristics.He has done so much, served so many, faced non- ending danger, including his cancer, had so many adventures, b
ut to him…it was just what he did—no bragging, no drawing attention to himself-just humble—which is the mark of a true hero.
In May of 1997, Mike wrote to our family:
“After you take a deep breath or two, I want you to look at the newspaper, go to the mall, walk down your street or anyone’s street.And tell me what you see.Look at these people closely, brush aside your feelings for just a brief moment.Where has God put you in the great picture of life?Tell me if you don’t feel lucky, you don’t feel special and life isn’t fair. When I get sad or angry abo
ut something or someone and start feeling that I am not getting a break, I start thinking of all those folks I have had the opportunity to help, to comfort or just pick up when they fell.I say to myself, I really don’t have it that bad compared to the these other folks.I guess I should start looking at the other side of sadness and depression and start telling myself how lucky I am to have what I have.I will share a story on Friday with a bunch of young folks that won’t fully understand the feelings and emotions of what 169 families where forced to go th
rough 2 years ago and are having to re-live again during the trial of the people that caused those emotions.
I will get off my soapbox, however it is not over until the fat lady sings, and I have not seen the fat lady hanging out lately. So you see, there is nothing to worry about- It is OK to be tired---it is OK to rest---But we can’t stop doing our jobs.Everyone is in this together.”
His words from 1997 are words I feel certain he is telling us all today.
I cannot end without sharing the amazing love I observed between Mike and DeeDee.I would come to their home and find joy in just listening to them laughing together-even through the struggles of cancer, there was laughter and love.Of their love I can say- you never really knew where one ended
and the other began.
One year ago I had the privilege of being baptized with my brother by my son in his son’s pool.What a glorious moment we shared as we were able to proclaim our shared faith in the resurrected Christ, our Lord and Savior.
Mike had a favorite hymn throughout his years- The Old Rugged Cross-the chorus reads:
“So I’ll cherish the old rugged cross till my trophies at last I lay down.I will cling to that old rugged cross and exchange it someday for a crown
.”
Mike –You have that crown now and His Glory forever you share.
I love You, I miss you—I will see you again in Glory.
This writing was given to my brother Mike by our Dad as he was about to marry Dee Dee. Mike in turn gave it to his son Michael C. as he became a man. It was read by Rick at Mike's memorial service to share how Mike live his life and the lessons he passed down to us all- If By Rudyard Kipling If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you; If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you, But make allowance for their doubting too; If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or, being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;If you can dream - and not make dreams your master; If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with triumph and disaster And treat those two imposters just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to broken, And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch; If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much; If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run - Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!
J. Michael McGroarty, 60, who braved disasters around the country and world to protect the lives of thousands and educated others to protect the lives of countless more, died in his Corona, Calif., home on June 7, 2010, after a hard-fought battle with prostate cancer.
Mike was born Sept. 2, 1949, in Los Angeles to Charles and Jane McGroarty. He graduated from Pacifica High School in Garden Grove, then achieved a bachelor’s degree in public administration from the University of La Verne. He also held associate’s degrees in fire technology and paramedical science from Rancho Santiago College, as well as a Lifetime California Community College teaching credential.
He gave 27 years of service to the La Habra Fire Department (including 10 years as an emergency medical technician-paramedic, six years as a captain, eight years as a battalion chief, and seven years as fire chief), then retired in 2001 to provide the state the benefit of his lifesaving expertise through the California Governor’s Office of Emergency Services. His titles and the programs he led are too numerous to list, but included the State Urban Search and Rescue Response Program, the State/National Urban Search and Rescue Training Program, terrorism and weapons of mass destruction-related operations, flood and swift water rescues, and Hazmat operations planning.
When large-scale tragedy struck, Mike’s expertise saved lives. He instructed in rescue operations for California’s Office of the State Fire Marshal, the California Office of Emergency Services, and the FEMA Urban Search and Rescue Response System Advanced Task Force. He developed statewide incident management guidelines, consulted on safety protocol, and designed disaster contingency plans for businesses.
Over the years, he responded to emergency situations near and far, including the Leninakan earthquake in Soviet Armenia; the Loma Prieta earthquake; Hurricane Emily; the Northridge earthquake; and the Oklahoma City Federal Building Bombing.
He cited his most memorable response as coordinating the first wave of California’s Urban Search and Rescue task forces sent to New York City on Sept. 11, 2001. His work there integrated New York Fire Department and FEMA rescue efforts in the face of confusion and extremely hazardous conditions.
Mike retired from the Office of Emergency Services in 2004 and began work as a contract instructor for large-scale disaster incident management.
Mike McGroarty is survived by Dee McGroarty, his one true love and wife of 40 years; son Mike and daughter-in-law Destiny McGroarty; daughter Kelly McGroarty; granddaughter Brittany Sherman; grandson Garrett McGroarty; mother Jane McGroarty; sister Katee Cross; and sister Sue Simonson.
True to his proud Irish heritage, Mike valued love, friendship, and loyalty—characteristics he revealed to all who met him. He was often described simply as a hero.
In lieu of flowers, please send memorial contributions in Mike’s name to City of Hope (cityofhope.org) or the National Disaster Search Dog Foundation (searchdogfoundation.org).
