Pauline Armand Valois Kumiski Barber

Pauline and Richard

It’s been an emotional week. I lost my mom. I lost a good friend. I’m in Alaska and will miss my wedding anniversary tomorrow.

The oldest of nine children, the early part of my mom’s life was tough- poverty, polio, problems with learning the language of her home country (she spoke French as her native tongue, even though she was born in Massachusetts), all made her life difficult. While in her twenties she married my father, not an easy man to live with. Although he died young, and she was his principal caretaker during his lengthy illness, at least he left her a paid-for home and no debt.

Pauline with her first child, 1952.

While I was in grade school I was in the school band, and played little league baseball for a year. She came to all my rehearsals and practices, something she continued to do until I was in high school. I finally asked her to stop because the other guys were giving me so much crap about her always being there.

She would always be there, for everything.

She met all my teachers. Because I was an indifferent student, they were always calling her in for conferences, and Dad would never go.

When I was in my late teens I did or said something that greatly upset her. She went to hit me. I grabbed her arm. “Mom, you will hurt yourself more than you’ll hurt me.” She never tried to hit me again, although I probably deserved a few good smacks from time to time until I turned 25 or so.

Me, Mom, and sister Cheryl, around 1976.

She had a couple more tough years after my father died. The house was empty because Cheryl and I were away at school, adults now. Somehow, in Boston, she met Richard. Ten years after my dad died they married. They had squabbles as any couple does, but he was good to her and I was happy for her. It was the most security she would ever know, and it lasted for the rest of her life.

Pauline and Richard on my wedding day, 1980.

She decided to move to California while Sue and I were in Brazil. She spent some time there, then came to Florida to be near Sue and I. She didn’t like it there and was going to move again when Sue became pregnant. Mom never left, and lived in Florida until she passed away. All but one of her eight brothers and sisters ended up there too!

My Mom with her surviving siblings- Norman, Pauline, Huguette, Rudy, Leo, Donald.

She and Richard were an enormous help in raising our kids. Their childhood was extraordinarily rich in experiences that Sue and I would never have been able to provide any other way. For this I could never thank either of them enough. Of course, Maxx and Alex were the only grandchildren Pauline and Richard would ever have, so all their attention was channeled into our boys.

Mom plays a game with Maxx.

Mom with Alex.

Mom could converse with anybody anywhere, a skill that unfortunately was not passed to me. She made friends easily and had lots of them, folks from all walks of life.

One thing I did get from her was the drive to be active. Mom did water aerobics at the local Y six days a week for years. She said it kept her pain-free and certainly kept her active. There was an undeniable social aspect to it, too. She made lots of friends there. I feel bad for them. They will miss her.

Not as much as I will, though. She and Richard live just across the street from us. I could pop in anytime and see her. We had them over for dinner frequently.

Mom lived a long life, a good life. She was a good person. She had no long illness. She was lucid until the end. While perhaps there is no happy ending, hers was close to as painless to her as it’s possible to be. While her loss hurts and leaves an unfillable emotional void in me, I celebrate her life as I mourn her death.

A family photo taken a couple years back. Mom is in the center of the back row.

I love you mom. May you rest in peace.

John Kumiski