Funeral Expenses for Andrea Phelps

On September 20, our mother lost her life to cancer after battling it valiantly for 3 years. We're heartbroken, but grateful that she's no longer in pain. We'll miss her everyday, but will carry her in our hearts, and will pass along her love and empathy to our children.

It takes a lot for us to ask for help, but we're reaching out to our community to help us offset the cost of funeral expenses. My mom was low income, didn't have life insurance, and she was too sick to work towards the end of her life, so we started from zero. A fundraiser our mom's friend held shortly before my mom passed away was a great start, and all of her kids have contributed significantly, but we're struggling to cover the remaining $6,000. We sincerely appreciate any amount you're able to willing to contribute—every little bit helps.

Thanks so much for your generosity and compassion. To give you an idea of what my mom was like (for those of you who didn't get to meet her in person), below you'll find a memory I shared of her at her funeral.

With love, 
Heidi Phelps, Rob Phelps, and Lisa Phelps-Bergeron

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Peonies

(In memory of my mom.)

When I was about nine years old, my mom and I moved from the house where I was born, into an apartment across town in Narragansett. Shortly after we moved out of the house, and right before the new owners moved in, my mom drove us back to the house to pick up something she hadn’t had the chance to take with her.

When we arrived, she stopped the car, grabbed a bucket and a shovel from the trunk, and told me to wait with the engine on—like a getaway car. I had no idea where she was going with this.

She headed over to a well in the front yard that was surrounded by beautiful pink peonies. She knelt down and carefully uprooted every single one of those peonies, placing them gently in the bucket. When she was done, she headed back to the car, drove us home, and replanted them at our new place.

You see, these weren’t just any pink peonies; they were peonies from her grandmother’s garden—my great grandmother Laity. Grandma Laity was my mother’s favorite person on Earth, and she had uprooted these flowers from her garden years ago, transplanting them into her own soil for safekeeping. They reminded her of her grandmother’s love and strength every time she looked at them.

Peonies are actually rather difficult to transplant, so I marvel now at how she was able to do this not just once, but multiple times. And they not only survived, but thrived.

But while I marvel at the fact that she was able to do it (her amazing green thumb is a quality I sadly did not inherit), I’m not at all surprised. My mom was all about love and family, and would go to great lengths to cultivate strong roots.

Mom, if you can hear us, please don’t worry about us. You dedicated your life to building us up to be strong and resilient—and we are. We’ll miss you terribly, but we will keep going. And in every beautiful, happy moment in our future we will think of you. We’ll carry you with us, and will pass along everything you’ve taught us to our children. We will never, ever forget how much you loved us.

We love you too. Forever.

Rest In Peace.