In March of this year, my mother passed into the ever-after. She’d suffered a stroke in August of last year and her time since then had been filled with many challenges. She met most of those challenges with optimism and strength. And though she was surrounded by family day and night for the week or so before she died, when she did pass, I was by her side, as was my older sister, Michelle. I guess it was right then that the two of us also eulogized her. I’m copying her eulogy below. My sister’s initials are MMT and mine are DMS, so that’s how you can know who was speaking. To say I’m heartbroken doesn’t do justice to what this loss means. It has changed me forever, even though I know, in a way I couldn’t have comprehended or perhaps even fully believed before, that she exists now in a state of perpetual happiness. My heart and my thoughts now turn to my family, sisters, children, and grandchildren that grieve alongside me. And to her sister, the last of five, who lost her own daughter one week after the death of my mom, her beloved sister. I spoke with her the other day after she’d finished saying her novena–our family prays the rosary nine times for nine nights after someone dies–and my Titi Lydia told me, “Everyone suffers. Now is my time.” Wise and direct, that’s Titi Lydia. My sisters and I told her that she lost her daughter, and we lost our mom, but we still have each other.
I know I’ve dropped the social media ball recently, and really since last August when I became mom’s part-time caregiver, but I hope to do better on that front. Especially, since I’m now working to catch up on finishing the third book in my Bad Legacy series, HARD PROMISES.
Lucy Eneida Centeno O’Leary
August 26th, 1943 -March 18th, 2026
MMT: Today we honor the life of our beloved Mom, Lucy Centeno O’Leary. Mom was a devoted wife, a caring sister and aunt, a loving mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother. She touched the lives of everyone around her in both big and small ways. The biggest way was a strength that carried us forward even on the most difficult of days, especially today. The smallest ways are some of the things we’ll miss most, like her quick smile, ready laugh, and generous compliments.
It’s hard to summarize everything that made Mom such an extraordinarily loved person, but there are some essential things that defined who she was.
DMS: Mom was a Nuyorican. Born in Arecibo, Puerto Rico she moved to New York City in the early fifties. She spent a good deal of her formative years shuttling from New York to Puerto Rico, and she loved them both. Over the years, she shared stories about each place that delighted and horrified us. From spying on boys bathing under a waterfall in Ponce to crossing over a ladder connecting her New York City bedroom to her best friend Gladys’ bedroom, despite the fact that they were five stories up.
MMT: Mom was empathetic to a fault. It might’ve been her superpower. Despite our large extended family, she knew with uncanny accuracy who most needed her prayers. She’d say, I’m praying for…and then name someone in the family. Mysteriously it was always during a time when that person needed her prayers most. As a family, we became so dependent on her prayers, that if we needed a little spiritual mojo, we’d ask her to pray for us. She always did, and it always seemed to make things better, no matter how they turned out.
DMS: Mom was kindhearted to a degree that often amazed us. When Mom had her stroke last August, our family flooded the hospital. There were so many of us, we took rotating turns visiting. During my son William’s turn, he tells of how she immediately inquired after the health of his dear friend, who had his own struggles. Mom was that kind of considerate, the kind of person who while hospitalized after her own stroke, asked about the wellbeing of another.
MMT: Mom was a hopeless romantic. Not only did she watch enough Hallmark movies to ensure the franchise a lifetime of riches. She also liked to meddle in everyone’s love life. If we had a dollar for every time she planned the wedding of one of her granddaughters, we’d have the million dollars she always claimed she was going to win in the lottery. Mom was such a hopeful romantic, that she felt badly for anyone who had yet to find their happily ever after. A fact that benefited me for many years, as Mom would make sure I had an extra gift at Christmas to make up for my lack of a partner. Once I married David, I got cut off. Which tells you everything you need to know about Mom’s view on the value of relationships.
DMS: Mom was generous. If you complimented Mom about anything in her home or even on her person, you better be prepared to have it gifted to you. And if you came to her house, she’d not only make you feel welcome, she’d undoubtedly feed you. She wasn’t called the Food Pusher for nothing. My nephew Sonny tells of coming to Nana Lucy’s house on Easter, and how touched he was that she made sure both he and Sal had an Easter basket. It wasn’t only because she considered anyone from Bill’s side of the family her family, it was also that it wasn’t in Mom’s nature to have people over and have nothing to give them. Once, I showed up at her house unexpectedly. She had no food prepared, so she started searching through her fridge in somewhat of a panic looking for something to give me. Finally, she pulled out a thin, tinfoil wrapped package and shoved it at me, “Here,” she said, “Have a pork chop!”
I declined the offer.
MMT: Mom loved to laugh. If you knew my mom, it’s likely you laughed with her. But there was no one she laughed with more than with her sisters. When Mom and our Titi Lydia or Titi Haydee would talk, they’d chat in quick streams of Spanish followed by bursts of wicked laughter. Actually, Spanish followed by conspiratorial laughter is one of our most prevalent childhood memories. We’re still not sure what was so funny, but we have our suspicions.
DMS: Mom loved to perfect her beautiful home and cook her native Puerto Rican dishes. There are two smells that will always remind us of her, Lemon Pledge and Arroz con Pollo.
And if you’ve ever been to Mom’s home, you know she loved nicknacks almost as much as she loved to shop for them. As her house began to fill up, we’d chide her, “Mom, where is that going to go?” She’d smile and say, “in the bathroom.”
Mom had some glitzy bathrooms.
It became our joke when shopping. She’d pick something up and say, “You know where this would look great?” And one of us would singsong, “In the bathroom.”
MMT: Mom was funny. Even in her last days and weeks, when she was frustrated by the weakening abilities of her body, she would hit us with a quip that had us rolling in laughter. And though those jokes aren’t appropriate for church, the fact that she was able to make them, shows her true strength and perseverance.
DMS: Mom loved to sing. She’d burst into song, either Disney or Oldies, Spanish or English, at random intervals that left you scratching your head. Like what about chopping onions and peppers requires a song? And if you ever said the word, “fun,” in front of her, you better prepare yourself for her singing the chorus,
DMS and MMT: “We had fun, we had fun, we had seasons in the sun.”
DMS: Mom loved Jesus and being a Christian. She lived her faith with a kind of joyful enthusiasm that was infectious, especially around the holidays. It motivated everyone around her to participate, evidenced by the unfortunate videos of all of us singing Christmas carols and by our loud and very off-key rendition of Happy Birthday to Jesus.
MMT: We could fill this church with all the wonderful things we’ll miss about Mom, but you already know the best one, she loved with an open heart. It didn’t matter if you were a close family member or a distant one, a stranger or a friend, or someone who came to care for her during her final weeks, she loved you. And it’s that ability to love with a big and open heart, that we’ll carry forward for her AND because of her.
MMT: Gracias, Mom. Nosotros te amamos. Duerme. Nosotros nos encargamos desde aquí.
DMS: Thanks, Mom. We love you. Sleep. We’ll take care of things from here.