I love my mother so much it is impossible to describe in words. Since Tuesday morning my mind has been a complete fog, and my heart--nothing more than a gigantic void. If ever there was someone who was an irreplaceable value, it was her.

When I turned eighteen, still searching for meaning and direction in life, I asked my mother if she had ever heard of a writer I liked. The writer’s name was spelled AYN RAND. "Oh, that’s Ann Rand, read The Fountainhead," she replied. I read her copy, which I still have and treasure to this day. Shortly thereafter I became responsible, saved enough money to move out, support myself through college and leap from one success to another. I have them both to thank for that.

My mother was a passionate valuer. The values she and I shared were manifold: New York City, the Apollo Space Program, gold, skyscrapers, finance, jazz, Frank Lloyd Wright, dance, real estate, Thomas Jefferson (about whom she said we should have a week off to celebrate his birthday), the New York City marathon (she really enjoyed preparing my brother Damian and I for the race with a hearty breakfast) and, of course, her husband and nine children. These values were not superficial, they were essential to her character.

I asked my fiancée Blanca what she liked most about my mother. Blanca replied, "she’s always so happy!" In Blanca’s case this was true. When my mother was happy, which was often, nobody expressed it more. Blanca asked me the same question, my answer was--she allowed me to be independent. She brought me into existence, into this wonderful thing called life. She took care of me (and eight other children) and let me think for myself when I became an adult. This is the most any parent can do for its child.

The last time I saw her alive, last Saturday, three of my sisters and I were organizing items in her home. My sister Marian came across a folded map and description of the voyages of Columbus. She handed it to me and I asked my mother if I could have it--to proudly display upon her next visit. My mother shot me a brief glance and added, "you always know the right thing to take." Later that evening when the cab had arrived and everyone was in it I went back for one more kiss and hug. I did not think it would be my last.

In conclusion I would like to ask each of you here, if your mother is still alive, give her a hug and kiss. Tell her you attended a memorial for a very, very special mother. If your mother is no longer alive, my family and I share in your loss and sorrow.