For all who couldn't attend, here is a brief remembrance of our mother that we shared at the cemetery. It is a great comfort to us to know how well-loved she was. Thank you all for your support, thoughts and prayers.

In the 90 years that our mother inhabited this Earth, she was known by a number of names. “Mom” to the five of us – or sometimes “Bumble Beatrice” or simply “the Bumble.” “Duchess” to our father, who always joked that he married out of his league. “Aunt Beattie” to our cousins Maureen, Kathy, Tom, Eddie, Kevin and Frank. “Aunt Bea” to our cousins Carole and Kathi, Andrea and Dick, Mike, Pat, John, Dennis and Terry. “Grandma (okay, sometimes Cursin' Grandma),” to her grandchildren Erin, Kevin and Kai Li. “Mrs. B” to the kids at Lindell School in Long Beach, where she was a lunch aide for so many years. And just Bea to her innumerable friends in Long Beach and Lake Grove, where she was a friendly, familiar presence in so many lives. 

So today we celebrate her life. The past few years were not easy for Mom, so that's why it's so important to remember the vibrant, laugh-out-loud-funny and bighearted woman she was for so many years before. To remember the woman who was always dressed and ready for a party a half hour before our father, sitting on the arm of the couch, tapping her toe. The woman who, with her twin Jean playing Ethel to her Lucy – or vice- versa – thought moving a barbecue into the basement of our Long Beach house – with 11 kids in tow – was a far better idea than waiting out a summer thunderstorm. And – fire hazard aside – it was. The woman who sang along with opera arias as she washed dishes, who never turned away any of the dozens of stray cats that we dragged home, who made Sunday night picnics on the living room floor with the Wonderful World of Disney the best night of the week.  

Our mother was born December 15, 1923, in Brooklyn, New York, either 45 minutes before or after her sister Jean, depending on which one you asked. They were the babies of the family, after her sister Addie and their brother Frank, or Gick. After graduating Girls' Commercial High in Brooklyn, she had a brief stint modeling in Seventh Avenue showrooms but was forced to walk away because of the “fresh” garment-industry types she worked for. She landed a job at New York Telephone, which was apparently the social scene of 1940s Brooklyn and Manhattan. We have countless picture of Mom decked out in the latest fashions with 50 of her closest friends (and of course Aunt Jean) attending a bond drive for “the boys in service” or a Christmas party or just another night on the town. Her career at Ma Bell not only made her the most popular girl on Maple Street, it introduced her to the love of her life, our dad, Bill. Our Aunt Ceal, the wife of Dad's brother Jack, introduced her to her quiet, unassuming brother-in-law in 1945. Mom always told us that she knew from their first week of dates – when they went through every penny of his mustering-out pay – that she would marry him. Five years after “keeping company” she did. A year after that, our brother Frank arrived, followed in quick succession by four more of us until 1960. That's when she discovered her real calling: Mother.

It sounds clichéd, but she truly lived for her children. She always put us first – making a home for us in Long Beach, where “every day was a vacation,” as she wrote in our baby books. She and our father would take us to the beach until we were old enough to go by ourselves – when suddenly they stopped. When we later asked why they didn't go to the beach anymore, she said they just didn't care for it. “Um, then why did you move to the beach?” we asked. She said simply, “Because we thought it would be a good place to raise kids.” And it was. The house was small, but we still made room for Pop, her father, in his later years – because that's just who she was. We added a rabbit, random turtles, scores of fish, a steady stream of cats, a dog or two. We took for granted all that she did for us. We've always laughed that she was tough as nails, the rock of the family, but it was no joke. The woman was invincible.

And she was always there. Watching the 4:30 movie after school, Mom was there with us humming at the ironing board. As we did our homework on the dining room table, she'd bustle around the house, putting away laundry, getting dinner ready, looking over our shoulders, all the while humming along to La Boheme. She soothed our sunburns in the summer, built snowmen with us in the winter, and even covered for us when we earned Dad's wrath…sometimes.    

Everyone who knew our mom commented on her beauty. And she was beautiful, no doubt, but to risk another cliché, her beauty was more than skin-deep.  Everyone was drawn to her. In Long Beach she couldn't walk home from church or the Laundromat or the butcher without stopping to talk to half a dozen friends or neighbors.  She was always the life of the super-glam parties at our Aunt Ann and Uncle Frank's on Grand Boulevard, dancing, belting out “Danny Boy” and laughing, always laughing.  

Moving out to Lake Grove was a big adjustment for Mom – never having learned to drive after Uncle Frank made an ill-fated attempt to teach her out in “the country – Canarsie.” But she adapted and enjoyed life in Lake Grove as much as she did in Long Beach. She became a familiar sight on Hallock Road, collecting errant golf balls from the nearby course – we think she had 6,000, sorted by brand, color and condition – by her unofficial “retirement.” Even then, she raked leaves, pulled up tree stumps (literally, she did), baked countless batches of banana bread and peanut butter cookies, took walks in the cul-de-sac, and kept a watchful eye on the neighborhood, and later a meticulous accounting of Bill's comings and goings – Bea O'Brien on the job! 

As adaptable and loving and open-hearted as she was, that's not to say she didn't hold very strong opinions, which she freely shared, on subjects ranging from Madonna's clothing choices to Jessie Jackson's fitness for a presidential run – “I didn't like him as a ballplayer…” – to Pat Sajack's off-color jokes.  

She lived life fully, never compromising, right up to the end. Giving up was not an option for Mom, because she simply didn't know how to give up – she never had. So she leaves us with a lifetime of memories that hopefully will bring us comfort, and of course, a few laughs because no tribute to Bea O'Brien would be complete without a remembrance of her idiosyncratic lexicon that we have all made a part of our own lives. Here's just a sampling: 

“The place was lit up like Luna Park!” 
“I called, but I got a doan answer” – it took us years to realize this was “DON'T answer.”
“Get a load of Dopey Benny over there.”
“Pick up those fetzers/schnibbles off the floor.” 
“Who wants the gnutz?” (the heel of the bread) 
“Don't be a horse's fiddity.”
“If there was one, there must have been scaty-eight.”
“He had more problems than Hector had pups.”
“I'm so hungry I could eat the hair off your head.”
“Holy Hannah!”
“Just be good kids.” (when we'd ask what she wanted for Christmas, birthdays, etc.)

Mom would always say that she and our dad were blessed with an amazing gift – the five of us, their children. And each of us inherited some definitive, recognizable traits from both of them that we will always carry with us. But much as I hate to disagree with her – and much as she hated being disagreed with – we believe we were the ones who've been blessed.

Dear Elizabeth, 
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your entire family during this sad time. I'm very sorry for your loss.
Warm regards,
Chris

To The O'Brien Family,
I'm so sorry about your loss. Mary sounded like an awesome lady. The pictures you posted are a wonderful tribute to a beautiful lady.
God Bless Mary and her family.
xo

I have fond memories of my
Aunt Bea as a kind, loving,
caring person. She was my Godmother. A fact that I reminded her of a few years ago in a phone call on her birthday. I teased her about it, telling her she always liked my twin brother Pat better.
She was very helpful when my Mom Adelaide became ill and passed away. 
Our condolenses to all of her family. She shall be missed. 
Mike and Barbara Mccormick

My thoughts and prayers are with you all. I would be there, if I could, believe me. Aunt Bea was my favorite aunt, and treated me like I was her favorite, but she treated everyone that way - I'll miss her dearly.

Thinking of all of you, wishing you peace. What wonderful photos! No doubt your mom will be missed.

To the O'Brien family,
Thru many conversations with your brother Bill, I feel  I know u all.
My wishes for each and everyone of you, is peace and comfort during this difficult time. Mumsy,  as Bill called her will always be there watching over you. My deepest and sincere sympathy
Dawn

I love you Grandma. I'm going to light a real candle for you at our church too. I hope you have a happy afterlife. Say hello to Grandpa for me

OBITUARY

Beatrice Mary O'Brien

December 15, 1923 – April 2, 2014

O.B. Davis Funeral Homes

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