Helen Callaghan Conway, my mother, was born on January 16, 1925. She was the second daughter and third child of Anna May Bernet Callaghan and William D. Callaghan. She passed away on October 2, 1998, following more than 50 years of marriage to my father, John L (Jack) Conway. 

As I get older, numbers of years become overwhelming. Mom would be 95 today. She will be dead 20 years later this year. How is it possible? Where does the time go? More importantly, where is it taking us?

One of Mom’s favorite sayings was “Hope springs eternal.” She believed that the mystery of time is intimately connected to the virtue of hope. Although we cannot predict the future—or escape our past or control what happens to us in the present—there is reason to be confident in Love’s ability to overcome all obstacles and set us free. 

Mom was a poet, not a philosopher or theologian, but she had a keen understanding of the truth of things—visible and invisible. She could spot a phony a mile away, and she did not suffer fools gladly. She loved her husband, her children, her grandchildren and her many extended family members and friends. She loved to write, to teach and to engage in stimulating conversation. 

Happy Birthday, Mom. We miss you.