After a long and emotionally grueling two-and-a-half weeks, my family and I said our final goodbyes to my mom today. Long-time blog readers will remember the aggravation and comedy gold Mom gave me. Man, I wish I could spar with her some more.
I'm not going to get maudlin. I'm definitely not going to describe the last emotionally crushing and exhausting weeks my brother and I experienced. Instead, let's celebrate this wonderful, stubborn, beautiful, frustrating, one-of-a-kind mother.
Mom lived a full life on her own terms; stubbornly so. She was fond of saying, “I know what I know” and “I know I’m right.” Of course, she hailed from Missouri, the “Show Me State,” and wore that state cliche tightly like a snug turtleneck. She disagreed with my brothers and I on everything from politics to washing machines (don't ask), but did so with a mischievous sense of humor. And no matter how heated our ridiculous debates got, she’d always end the conversation with love.What an amazing woman. When her husband--my dad--was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis, she took her wedding vows literally. Like a warrior, she cared for Dad the rest of his life. She saw him through medical crises, job changes, and numerous life alterations. But she never once failed to pick him up from work on time and heft that heavy wheelchair into the car's trunk. Throughout these trials, they adapted and never stopped loving one another.
Miraculously, she also managed to raise three boys, a task not for the faint of heart. I mean, one daughter nearly did me in.
A master of multi-tasking, Mom also worked in real estate and hauled her sons everywhere, from grocery stores to school to auto shops and the dreaded fabric stores, where my younger brother and I remember spending endless, boring hours. I'm talking hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and hours and...
(Deep breath)...hours and hours and days.
And more hours and hours and hours.
And hours.
An amusing funeral anecdote (because they're sooooooo popular): after relating the fabric shop trauma in a speech I gave at Mom's memorial, one of the funeral directors who oversaw the proceedings came up to me afterward, nudged me, and said, "What you said about fabric stores? Man, that really brought memories back for me. I spent endless days with my mom in those, too."
I said, "really?"
"Yeah."
"It was almost like I spent my childhood there," I said. "It was brutal."
He just shook his head, lowered his eyelids as if experiencing PTSD. I agreed with a solemn nod. Had the pandemic not deterred it, I think a brothers-in-arms hug would've been appropriate.
Anyway, once we three sons had flown the coop, my parents enjoyed vacationing in Florida. They spent
many winters there, joining the unofficial “snow birds” community. After my dad’s
passing, Mom chose not to sit still and continued her yearly sojourns down south.
There, she renewed her passion for dancing (something she enjoyed with my dad in
their early days). She turned many an eye on the dance floor with numerous
suitors, but none of them could keep up with her. In every sense possible.
One of my mom's biggest joys was her grandchildren. She taught her granddaughters the art of cooking, made them Halloween costumes (she made my daughter a Sailor Moon costume! The accumulated months in fabric stores clearly paid off.), took them on adventures, and shared her big world with them. And always with a wonderful, self-deprecating sense of sly humor which all of “Nana’s girls” have inherited. Every grandchild loved spending time with her. A true testament to her loving power.
A caring, generous of soul person, Mom lived her life as a Christian, treating everyone with respect and compassion.
I miss you and love you, Mom.
Please accept my sincere condolences, Stuart.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Cat. Much appreciated.
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