Today would have been my Mom’s 91st birthday. She died in 2019 at 85 after an extended illness. That’s usually how we write it up — “an extended illness.” It took us all together as a family to care for her and I lost my Mama a long time before she died. She had a failed knee replacement that ended in amputation and she had dementia. She moved in with us in 2016 before we knew her knee was failing and we may have had a slight hint of the dementia.
With some time and perspective, I am trying not to define my Mom’s life by the two and half years she lived with us. During that time we visited five different hospitals, had stays in a couple of nursing homes, and many home health nurses. I have been in a lot of ERs and even called an ambulance for her once. I have been called in the middle of the night by nurses attempting to care for her and spent many nights jumping up at her call to tend to her needs. This, however, was not the mom that I grew up with. Those years were hard and marked us all, but they shouldn’t define my mom.
My mom had a very interesting life. She grew up on a cattle ranch in Colorado and could tell real stories about how she walked a mile to school in the snow. And how the Dr. that delivered her was paid in chickens. She grew up with three older brothers and spent a lot of time reading the Farmer’s Almanac.
She wasn’t much of a shrinking violet though. In her 20’s she entered the foreign service and became a clerk-typist at the American Embassy in Israel. (Oh, how I love to tell this story — it sounds like a movie!!) While there she met a handsome (of course) marine guard. His ploy to get my mom was to always call her asking her how to spell words for his reports. It sounds goofy, but nobody can beat my mom at a game of Scrabble without thinking hard – she can SPELL. And there were no spell checkers, or word processing programs in those days. Anyway, their foreign romance grew and my father left for the US with a promise to marry my mom when she got back to the States and he did not leave her with a ring as a promise — he simply promised to mail her one later. I think she took a lot of ribbing for that — who would fall for that from some marine?
Ah, but he was true to his word and mailed her a ring. When she returned they were married the day after Christmas when my Dad had leave. They had two boys and then me (the only girl!). We spent our young lives moving every 2 1/2 years as my Dad’s assignments changed. He even spent the better part of my first year in Vietnam.
Growing up with my Mom was a fun time. She may not have been crafty or up for many parties, but she let us do a lot of stuff. We were allowed to keep various critters. We had toads in the window wells that we fed with hamburger meat, dogs, cats, guinea pigs, and even a pet duck. We spent hours playing games like Monopoly and Scrabble (of course). She taught me my first cross stitch and I can remember making a lot of tree ornaments.
She also just hung on through a lot of years of hard kid raisin’. I usually had a loud opinion and went through one terrible rebellious time in my teens. She just kept hanging on. She pushed me to join the swim team, hoping the physical exercise, change of friends, and structured time would help me out (it did). After all that, she still allowed me to take a one-year foreign exchange trip to Argentina when I was 17. It was one of the most pivotal times of my life.
When I came back and got ready for college she must have thought I flipped my lid again. I kept changing majors and living arrangements from dorm to apartment and then came home complaining about how I was “done with it all.” She helped me dump everything and move to Denver to go to a 6-month secretarial school. I have a better perspective now about how she must have received that phone call announcing my intentions to get married. WHAT? I hardly sounded ready to settle down on a mature life.
Once again she came to Denver and spent one whirlwind weekend planning my entire wedding. That’s right — one weekend. No 6 months of planning for us we did in it in ONE WEEKEND. We had so much fun doing it, I would do it again! To be honest, she was a bit circumspect about this marriage, but she didn’t say much after we got married. She still listened to my long phone conversations. She gave counsel or caution, but never butted in or had emotional tirades.
I sat with her at my Dad’s bedside after his open heart surgery, and a few years later as he lay dying from cancer. What I remember about those days at Dad’s bed was how much we laughed. We talked and talked and drank way too much coffee. As we went through the planning for and the actual funeral I can remember telling her I was worried about her and she said, “Oh, honey I have already done my grieving for the last six months.” I have never forgotten it. She did not deny that he was dying — she didn’t neglect to face it and grieve it, but she grieved it with my father.
She rescued me more times than I can count, like coming to help my family when I had a hysterectomy and started major emotional therapy with one of my kids in the same week. Can you imagine stepping into that landmine? Come she did — and cooked dinner every night.
So, when the time came for her to have a real need, my brothers and I decided to move her to my house. I tried to honor my mom during those years, sometimes I did a good job, and many times I fell to fatigue and frustration. However, as a family, we pulled in tight, stood our post, and served my mom until she walked on home. She was a good mom, and I still miss her.