Mummy in my windowseat 2023

We lost our beloved Mummy on the very same day as our wedding celebration. She was so happy for us and was planning to come celebrate in New York and meet my new family . . . until a swift-moving cancer took her away in a matter of weeks. She messaged me to please find our joy and not allow her situation to get in the way of the wedding celebration.

Here she is, not too long ago, in my window seat and under the lantern from the house I grew up in, now transplanted to our New York City home.

And here is my eulogy for her, on audio and in text, none better than my mummy.

Love, Holly

EULOGY

Hi.

This is Holly McGhee, my mummy's third daughter. 

I'm sending this tribute over audio, as I cannot be at her beloved Twin Churches physically today.

Back in 2018, I gave a speech at Remsen Elementary School, based on my novel Matylda Bright and Tender. I spoke to a hundred or so fifth graders, and my parents came along with me. I spoke about my characters, one who lived and one who died, and the idea that we can hold the tension of joy and sorrow at the same time. It seemed to resonate with these wonderful kids, some of whom had been or were going through deep grief.

I was staying with my parents, and early the next morning, I went down to the kitchen to partake of some of my Mom's endless pots of coffee, and there she was, by the sink, in her robe. It was as if she was waiting for me. Her hands were shaking as she held them out for me to hold . . . It was around 7 a.m. We took each other's hands, and we held on for some time. Then, in a trembling voice, she said, "You know . . . you know . . . until I heard your talk, I never realized you could be sad and happy at the same time.” A few tears were streaming down her face. Our eyes locked, and stayed deep, and then we hugged. I will never forget that morning, and I'll never forget her courage . . . from there on, our relationship was one of peace. 

I remarried on October 11th, the very same day she went on. 

Just a few weeks prior, my husband Marty and I had video chatted my mother from a taxi cab as we always did when on the way to a NYC airport. She'd usually say, eyes rolling, "Okay where are you going now?”.

But this time, her big question was what she should wear to our wedding party in New York City. And what did I think of her wearing the same dress she wore to her granddaughter's wedding? We had bought the  train tickets, she was traveling with my dear friend Dwight Putnam, and I couldn't wait for her to meet my new mother-in-law and Marty's large family, and for her to see all of my college roommates. She knew them so well from Cornell. She did mention she was feeling less energetic than usual. But in Gaby's world, that energy is still very high.

Then came her diagnosis, while we were in Dublin, and she wrote us a blessing and told us how beautiful we were and she didn't want her situation to get in the way of the big plans.

THAT’S

MY

MUMMY.

She always thought for herself, and was so patient as she waited for her heart and mind to come together and make a decision. In her quiet way, she was the bravest person I know, never herding with the group, and our love was strong and fierce.

Of course, we had no idea she would leave us so fast.

But about a half hour before our large wedding party in New York City my brother let me know that my mother had not breathed in 22 minutes. 

And there is the very tension and balance of holding these extremes, the very thing we talked about on that kitchen morning. 

She gave us her blessing, she was so happy for us, and then she was gone.

Her last wish was that we dance to ROLL OUT THE BARREL in her honor, and I still plan to do that, but I couldn't hold the great loss of her, minutes before our party and the rollicking song she used to love dancing to with Charlie Anken. I'll make it up to her though.

My mummy is one of my heros, and we grew up together in so many ways—we could disagree and work it through and come out stronger . . . that is rare, and we did that quite often!  She was the very best grandmother to my children and they loved visiting her. When my oldest could eventually sometimes beat her at Scrabble, she hated it! I never requested that my kids go visit Grandma Nini, it was always their own idea / they adored her.

There's a poem my mummy gave me a long long time ago, and one of her favorites, and I'm going to read it now, because she and I definitely found our "white singing hour". We gave all we had for peace and we won it.

I love you Mummy and I know that you and your other half are together again. I'm sure of it.

Barter

By Sara Teasdale

Life has loveliness to sell,

     All beautiful and splendid things,

Blue waves whitened on a cliff,

     Soaring fire that sways and sings,

And children's faces looking up

Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,

     Music like a curve of gold,

Scent of pine trees in the rain,

     Eyes that love you, arms that hold,

And for your spirit's still delight,

Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,

     Buy it and never count the cost;

For one white singing hour of peace

     Count many a year of strife well lost,

And for a breath of ecstasy

Give all you have been, or could be.

Mummy under the lantern from our childhood home, now in New York City

Remsen students with their copies of Matylda, Bright & Tender, upon graduation

Mrs. Piaschyk

I received a copy of a letter last week from Mrs. Piaschyk, who teaches 5th grade in Remsen, New York, a few miles from where I grew up. I spoke to her school quite a few years back; Matylda, Bright & Tender is not an easy book, and I was deeply moved at that event, at what the students shared with me about their own grief as I signed their books. I’ll never forget it.

Flash forward to last week, and Mrs. Piaschyk shared a letter with me, which I’m sharing an excerpt from below; it was for all of her students from that class who are graduating high school this year. It means more to me than I can put in words. I had signed a copy of Matylda, Bright & Tender for each of her students, and her plan was to give them the books at their graduation.

“To the 2025 Senior Class,

Here it is, just six short years after your 6th grade graduation and you are ready to graduate from high school. It’s amazing how quickly time has gone. I am so proud of each and every one of you.

As promised, with this letter comes your very own signed copy of MATYLDA, BRIGHT & TENDER. I hope you have fond memories of the day we invited Holly McGhee into our classroom for an author’s visit. As you may recall, she spoke with us about making mistakes and learning from them, having strong friendships, on new beginnings and fresh starts. As you embark on the next chapter of your lives, I think her words of the wiser ring true more than ever.

In 2019, Remsen experienced a Halloween flood that flooded the 4-6th grade wing of the elementary school. During that time, many of the signed books were damaged. I was devasted as I knew many of you were looking forward to receiving your book upon graduation. I painstakingly removed the title pages with your advice to your future self written in your 5th grade handwriting and pondered about what I should do. I reached out to Holly McGhee to explain the situation to her. Not only did she donate forty copies of the book, she signed each and every one of them. This act of kindness goes to show you that there is greatness in the world around you and Holly is one of the greatest . . . Learn from her act of kindness and pass it on to others . . . these books have been read and loved by many 5th graders over the past 6 years but they have been kept in excellent condition. I hope you appreciate them and listen to the advice that you gave yourself all of those years ago.”

Mrs. Amy Piaschyk, you are one of the greatest—your heart, your time, your dedication to your students, and your love of reading, as well as your kindness, make the world a better place. Wishing all of these students the very best for their futures.

Love to all.

Holly xox

Growing up, there was one person who stands out first in my life—she showed me what it meant to be loved, to be admired, to be acknowledged . . . that was my grandmother Reine Ajas Kirsch. She told me I was good looking, which wasn’t something I heard elsewhere. She used her gas stove in her little summer trailer to heat a curling iron to give me the ringlets she thought were becoming. I ate breakfast with her every day in the summer after seventh grade once I finished my cross-country workout, and she heaped more Nestles Quik into my glass of milk than I deserved. I cleaned out her ashtrays, full of LARK cigarette butts, and my sister Laurel and I used her empty vodka bottles (one bottle each week, mixed with root beer) to make our own bar in the back yard, on a saw horse. She watched us from her trailer window. Granny Kirsch died when I was 14, but she is with me to this day. Here she is in an advertisement “Changing a tire’s so easy, even a woman can do it” or something like that. She was my person.

I was married for 21 years and raised three beautiful children. They amaze me, and they are all way smarter than I am. But the time came when I needed to take care of myself and leave the relationship with my husband / get back to the city of my heart, New York, get back to who I always was. I can’t say it was easy, and the next four years of a nesting house were challenging, for me, for my kids, for him too I’m sure. That’s over now.

For several years, when in New York half the time, I lived simply and peacefully . . . cooking gourmet meals just for myself and traveling to NJ every other week to take my turn at the nesting house . . .

And then I met my split apart, and my world exploded (the split apart phrase comes from Jandy Nelson’s I’LL GIVE YOU THE SUN). After a couple years, my split apart told me that he wasn’t comfortable calling me his person, his partner, or his girlfriend. He told me that he’d prefer to call me his wife. I said, “Are you asking me to marry you?” He said, “Yes.” And I agreed to do so with all of my heart. He brings joy to me, every single day, and he doesn’t ever get anxious. (I do.)

My father had the chance to meet him before he passed away last year. My father, the toughest of critics, loved Marty immediately. My mother loves him too.

I told my mom last fall that we were engaged. And I told her that I didn’t want to wear a diamond again. I told her I wanted an aquamarine. An aquamarine represents happiness, hope, and everlasting youth. In ancient times, aquamarine was thought to protect those at sea. It was believed to make sailors fearless and safe from adversaries on the open waters.

When I mentioned the aquamarine, my mother left her chair from the facebook video chat and went into her bedroom. She emerged with this aquamarine, which my Grandma Reine had purchased for herself when she had a little extra cash. It fit my finger like a glove. How did this suffragette, born in 1896, bearing my mother in 1935 by Caesarian Section, much shorter than I am and not the same body type, have the exact same size finger as I do? That is other. And I believe in other.

How I wish she could be here for my wedding next year. How I love her, and how she influenced me is enormous.

The world goes round . . .

Love to all on this amazing day.

Holly

It’s almost a year since my father passed away. He was 87, but he seemed to be impervious to death. He survived diabetes, colon cancer, heart issues, a burst appendix . . . his health was declining for sure, but none of us thought he would die of a massive heart attack in the middle of the night last February. In so many ways, we are grateful that he did not have a prolonged illness. But in so many other ways it was a total shock.

I’ve been thinking about my father so much recently; and I’ve been talking with his best friend Dwight fairly often, one of the kindest people ever to inhabit this planet. I’ve been thinking about all the baseball games we attended together, thinking about the miracle of his diner buddy friendships, thinking about how that once a year Yankees game formed the tapestry of life-long friendships, between me and his friends, thinking about how proud he was of me. Thinking about how much I miss him.

And thinking about last Christmas (2022), when my partner and I decided to drive up to Marcy, NY and take my parents out for lunch. I didn’t know that would be my last lunch with my dad. And about six weeks later, I was at a very special dinner with one of my most beloved clients, Peter H. Reynolds, and at the end of dinner, be bought me a box of chocolate to send my parents. There was a scrabble theme to it, four of the chocolate pieces spelling LOVE. My parents wrote me how much they loved it, how they researched the French chocolate factory it came from, and how they were rationing out the pieces each day. I didn’t know that was the last gift I would be privileged to send my father. He was a lover of gifts.

So these past few days, I’ve been overwhelmed with how much I miss him, and I’ve been playing LAY MY BURDEN DOWN by Caroline Herring nonstop, crying much of the time. A day or two ago, I called my super, Nelson, to remind him to stay in touch with his father in Puerto Rico. He was on the phone with his father at the time, and he put his father on hold to listen to me. He told me that he was afraid to go on the trip to PR alone, and that his wife didn’t want to go. But he was resolute that he would make the trip because his father is aging and he wants to see him.

I have to call this experience “other”. Whether one believes in God or a higher power doesn’t matter. I do not know what I believe except that there is so much “other” in this world if we pay attention with our heads and our hearts. I’m okay not knowing exactly what “other” is. The fact that it’s there is enough. Nelson has a trip planned, and I hold my father in my heart, always. He’ll be with Nelson on his trip, I’m sure. And I bow down to my mother, who has found a way to be strong, alive, and grateful, even though Dad is gone from this earth.

Our virtual launch conversation for What the World Could Make was extraordinary, and in case you missed it, you can watch it here.

Hosted by Julie Burstein & Schuler Books & Nicola’s Books, Kate DiCamillo, Pascal Lemaitre, and I talked about our dreams and how What the World Could Make came to be. Fortunately, it was recorded and you can see it anytime (just beware the very opening got cut off). I think you’ll be inspired by the talk, maybe laugh a little bit too / it was an amazing night! And if you watch all the way through you’ll have the opportunity to see the reveal of my launch party pants . . .

We can't wait to see you at the virtual launch for

What the World Could Make!

We'll talk about how dreams can morph into books, among other things. Three-time Newbery winning writer Kate DiCamillo will be chatting with us, as she was an integral part of how this story came to be, and the amazing Julie Burstein will be our moderator.

If you are wondering how to attend this virtual event via facebook, simply click on the link below into your browser at 5 p.m. Eastern on Tuesday, May 4 & you'll find us waiting for you.

Link to party!

But we won't be there before 5 p.m., so don't go early & get confused :-)

You'll be able to converse with all of us via the comments, and although we'd rather see you all in person,

this is going to be fun!

xox

Holly & Pascal